
MEADE 
















LIBRARY OF CONGRESS' 

{Bopijri3]^i’lf0.— ..... 
ShellL.......... "■ 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 












i • ’ 






» i 




|C • 


■■) - t 

.f. •, . 




•X 

• i 


X X^- " ^ 


- ■V’^. 


4 ^ 
• • 






4 » ^ 

•* “ . ^ 


^ , 


- 1 




•y - > • 

vV^A';. ., 




/ •- 


^ -r - 

-V". -^^>-:r 


•'•VV. . 


I • 


li. 




>♦ f. . 


% 

. > • 


.# 


> ♦: 


• ^ 





-T »■ 


4 


m 




\ tl 


> 


.1. •• 




• 4 ^ \ 

r « 


i" ■ 

^ * 
- ' ^ • ' tr 


• < 

' K 


-* 


/ 


#• 


-m: 


* >4 -> 


. *; 


7 •* 




V , 



; -s. • f. I ' ’ 

' ■ r 




• ^ 


<* - 


1^ 




k«t 

j 


I - .: 

• W' s 


« 





fc." '-->.'■ • : _ 

c' •: I ^ \ 

f; ,\ 


's'* > 




I -^y 

^ V 


N 


. 4. 




^V ^ •^- 




• r* . ^ ; V 


- r 

> 


. 4 


. - ‘Tjir?.?- *; 




. V -•,% 

> - •* 




i!r>': 




: t- '■ jjL- -r 


- 


.<» ». 
v._ 






• %_ ■ 

^ >-!? 




■->•,* _ 






. / 
4 

4 



^ r 




< 


- Vv *; 








. •* •■ 


• 4 ^ 

-“V-7 • 


• 7..^^ - » 4- 


n . : v- 

• • ^ • -T 



\ - 


c» •.. ’■ 1- 


♦ s 




■ . ■ 

. U •. 


. 




I • 


. » - 



.^4 




?. ^<-/: 


> i 


5 v;-’ 






» • %r * ** 






> »• 


i/ fV •'/ * 
-Tf^.; 


V 


'rv 


4 




lil- 


^ • 




•4^ 


Z.J.-\ 


» • A 

• • I 


> V' 


.T ' 


i :• 


• y, 

V - 




' - .V- 


^ V 

'' *S '. » 


» ■> 


- .. ' c- ^ 


>»;' v'.irt: 


•* ^ 


4 ^ 


>•> • 


r. 






• # 

4 >■ 


. ^ 

4 «. 


4 


•r 

4 / 


t 




• ^ 


i. v 
•!> 






‘.t 


? •. V " W • f : 


#• 


> % 


•V ' 
« 

* ^ 


w. 


V 


J •• 


N 


j 


kMr^Y- .. '^ • 


S-- 


/yRjjrr 






y. 


^ A 




V 

* ^ *L * >' * • 
■ 


t.B_ :. W'.-ir. ^!:*'V 


v: 




• :?- ; - 


\ -Acl^v - > -V'^. ^ , 




-vv 


-iV ' 




V* ^ 


4 t:v' •-■ ^' *i' 




\ 



I 


« 


1 



r 


t 


( 



I 





r' 

I 

> 






) 






r I 



i • 







• ^ 


I 


t 


% 



* 


’I 


I 


I 


I 


« 


« 


,l.-» V 



y 




t 








\ 

« ' 


I .• 


€‘ 





i 


I 


* 




+ 




• . ' 

0 • 







A Thread of Gold 


Page 9. 





LUCIE DAYTON PHILLIPS 


PHILADELPHIA 

American Baptist Publication Society 

1420 CHESTNUT STREET 




I 


r 




X 




« 





% 


t t 


> I 


i 






4 




*ll^ •• 

4P 




« 






s 


» 




A THREAD OF GOLD. 


/' 


BY 


LUCIE DAYTON PHILLIPS, 


Author of “Into the Light,” “ Two Ways,” “ Amber f etc. 


“ Life means, be sure, 


Both head and heart— both active, both complete. 
And both in earnest. Men and women make 
The world, as head and heart make human life. 
Work, man ! work, woman ! since there’s work to do 
In this beleaguered earth for head and hearf. 

And thought can never do the work of love : 

But work for ends, I mean for uses.” 


Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 


AMEPtICAN BAPTIST PUBLICAl 
1420 Chestnut Street 


PHILADELPHIA : 



/ 




Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1893, by the 
AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY, 

In the Olfice of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


TO MY HUSBAND, 

Rev. J. M. PHILLIPS, 

THIS BOOK OF MINE IS MOST LOVINGLY AND 
GRATEFULLY DEDICATED. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

CHAPTER I. 

A Boy Without Folks, 7 

CHAPTER 11. 

Leslie at Home, 19 

CHAPTER III. 

A Strange Girl, 28 

CHAPTER IV. 

Whims, 42 

CHAPTER V. 

On the Mountains, 60 

CHAPTER VI. 

Helen, 73 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Costume Ball, . . , 86 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Unspoken Warning, 97 

CHAPTER IX. 

Getting Ready for Guests, 109 


5 


6 CONTENIS. 


PAGE 

CHAPTEK X. 

Leslie’s Baptism and Service, 119 

CHAPTER XL 

How She Received, 129 

CHAPTER XII. 

A Mere Suggestion, 142 

CHAPTER XIIL 

Still Bill, • . . 157 

CHAPTER XIV. 

A Time of Peril 171 

CHAPTER XV. 

The Plague, 183 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Golden Days, 191 

CHAPTER XVIL 

A Strange Adventure, 205 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

A “White” Thanksgiving, . 218 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The Lecture, 230 

CHAPTER XX. 

Leslie’s Secret and its Sequel, 242 


A THREAD OF GOLD 


CHAPTER 1. 

A BOY WITHOUT FOLKS. 

A mong the arrivals of the day at a certain high- 
priced hotel, airily perched on a sharp spur of the 
Rockies and called “ Belle View House,” by reason of its 
enchanting surroundings, were a young minister and his 
bride returning from their wedding tour, and a mother 
with three children, two fine-looking lads and a sweet- 
faced little girl. 

They were all quite weary from a long journey, and 
disappeared at once to the rooms assigned them. Late in 
the afternoon, however, the mother came out on the long, 
shaded veranda, and established herself in one of the 
rustic arm-chairs, with a bit of fancy work for com- 
pany. The two boys, carrying a lot of fishing tackle, 
rushed across the strip of lawn in front of the hotel, 
dashed recklessly down the steep declivity beyond, and 
began, with a delight almost too great for words, to fish 
for trout or perch in the brawling mountain stream. 

Their little sister, thus left to amuse herself, sauntered 
aimlessly up and down the wide corridors for a moment or 

7 


8 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


two, and then took a few turns on the now deserted gal- 
lery. But the lonely promenade in a strange place had 
no charms for the child. Far rather would she be bound- 
ing along with her brothers over the rough but lovely 
mountain ways toward the noisy brook, fishing by their 
side, and running and shouting amid the fastnesses, to 
waken the deep echoes of the grand old forest. And if 
mother had only allowed her to keep on the traveling 
suit of “ Quaker gray,” there might still be some hope 
of joining them later on for a merry romp through the 
wild paths and flowery spots her young soul loved. But 
there was not the smallest chance now, dressed as she was 
in the whitest of lawns, with a silken sash and dainty 
slippers. Oh, it was very hard to have to wear your 
“ best things,” and be told “ to sit still like a little lady,” 
when you are longing to see all sorts of enchanting places, 
and are pining for a run through the beautiful, savage 
forest yonder. 

And so, when the minister and his pretty young wife, 
the last of the new-comers to make their appearance on 
the veranda, strolled by together, they saw a very for- 
lorn little figure sitting stifily in one of the great carved 
oak chairs, and met a pair of wistful dark eyes. But the 
lady’s smile was so sweet, her glance so kind, the child no 
longer wished to run away. She was quite content, on 
the other hand, to sit very still, and watch admiringly the 
graceful sweep of the pale blue gown, the pretty face, 
where a flush like a rose was ever coming and going, and 
now and then get a smile, or a word, for herself. She 


A BOY WITHOUT FOLKS. 


9 


was sorry, indeed, when a ragged boy, with a dark face 
and slouching walk, came between. 

“Be you the parson?” he asked, addressing the gen- 
tleman, and taking off, with some attempt at manners, 
his old torn cap. 

“Why do you want to know that?” said the min- 
ister. 

The lad answered, with lips that trembled visibly : 

“ There’s a — a little child dyin’ in the first house you 
pass down the cove yander, and somebody — I don’t know’s 
I jest remember who — said if a parson was wanted to say 
a word to her afore she — she goes, I could find one at the 
big hotel, and I thought maybe you was the one. Oh, 
sir, will you please come, and — hurry ? ” 

The wife’s gentle eyes were bent on the lad’s dark, sen- 
sitive face, so full of pathetic pain and timid appeal. 

“ Is it your little sister ? ” she asked. 

“ No, marm. I hain’t no sister, and no folks of my 
own, at all. I’m just a boy what her folks took in about 
two year ago ; but I — I love Mona better nor anything in 
the whole world ; and now she’s — she’s gone, and killed 
her ! ” 

The lady was startled by the depth of woe of which 
these broken, mournful words hinted. It was difficult to 
picture tragedy and death in a spot so full of reposeful 
beauty as the wild glen to which the boy pointed as “ the 
cove yander.” On one side, the cool splendor of the 
western forest ; on the other, a background of mountain 
peaks ; and in an hour like this, the glamour of the twi- 


10 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


light lay over them both as a tender grace. Yet — he 
said “ killed ” ! She put her hand on her husband’s arm, 
and the three hurried away together. 

The large-eyed child who had listened wonderingly, 
who had not lost a word of the strange message, was for- 
gotten. As for the boy, he had not seen her. 

A very restless little figure in white and blue hovered 
about the hotel corridors, flitted in and out the parlors, 
and haunted the entrance that night. The child was all 
impatience for the lady’s return. She felt a strange 
interest in the pathetic bit of history the mountain lad 
had given of himself as a boy without folks, who had been 
“ took in ” ; and the little girl he had loved more nor any- 
thing, who was dying. 

She longed to know more than the sad outline of the 
story, and the pretty lady could tell her everything. 
Oh, why did she stay so long ? She positively trembled 
at the thought of being sent to bed before she had seen 
and questioned her. 

But the showy gilt clock in the office chimed the hour 
of nine, and then ten. What could be keeping her 
fellow-travelers of the morning? 

It was hard to give up the hope of seeing the lady for 
the night, and harder still to bear the disappointment 
that awaited her. 

When the child awoke the next morning, the elixir of 
that wonderful atmosphere stirring her young life to a 
vague new delight in the midsummer heaven that shone 
through her open window, she heard the news at once — 


A BOY WITHOUT FOLKS. 


11 


the minister and his wife had left the “ Belle View 
House ” by the stage that passed at dawn. 

The two brothers called her a muff, because she could 
not help shedding a tear or two at these tidings, and 
deeply wounded at their unfeeling behavior, she strolled 
out of sight alone the moment she had finished her 
breakfast. 

The way toward “ the cove ” was through a narrow 
glade, where the sunshine glinted through the straying 
foliage and flecked the mossy path with changing light. 
The air was full of sweet odors, the sky a lovely blue. 
Butterflies flew from flower to flower ; birds sang above 
her in their safe, high retreats. Small wonder that the 
child strayed on and on in a sort of rapture. Suddenly, 
she came face to face with a gaunt, ragged boy, slouching 
along the path in a forlorn and objectless fashion. She 
knew him at a glance. 

“ Oh, I am so glad ! ” she began, in the frank, confid- 
ing way of a child whose life is still all gladness. “ I was 
on the gallery of the hotel yesterday, and heard you 
speaking to the minister about the little girl you love. 
I have wanted ever since to ask of her. Is she ” 

“She’s — dead!’' said the lad, briefly. He turned 
away and wiped his eyes with his hand. 

“ I’m sorry, so sorry for you ! ” she went on, very 
gently. “And is it true that you had nobody else to 
love ? ” 

“Nobody at all, but just her. I ain’t got no home 
neither, now. I can’t stay on there since — since ” 


12 


A THEEAD OF GOLD. 


“ Poor boy ! Perhaps if you tell me all about things — 
so I can understand, you know — I could help you a little. 
Come over here, and let us sit on this nice old log. Now 
we can have a real good talk, and you must answer all 
my questions.’’ 

And his story, which she put together afterward — for 
he had told it brokenly and wildly, with sobs and tears — 
was this : 

His parents died before he was five years old — he was 
now fourteen — and friends had sent him to an Orphan’s 
Home in the West. Two years afterward he was adopted 
by a lady who lived in the South ; but in a few months 
she died of a malignant fever that was sweeping the cities 
about them. He was very ill with it himself, and was 
nursed by some women in black gowns and white caps, 
in a place where there were many others — sick, dying, or 
dead. When he recovered, he was sent away. He had 
no friends, no money, and no home. Somebody told him 
to go back to the “ Hcfme,” and made up a purse. But 
a farmer living a few miles out proposed to take him as 
his own child. He heard him promise to treat him kindly, 
buy him some clothes with the money that had been raised, 
and, after a while, to send him to school. But the man, 
and his wife too, were very cruel to him. He was half 
clad in the bitterest weather, and beaten and abused until 
he could stand their treatment no longer. He ran away 
in the night and walked at least two hundred miles, beg- 
ging from door to door for enough food to keep him from 
starving. It did not take much — he was only ten years old. 


A BOY WITHOUT FOLKS. 


13 


Ten miles from the cove there was a small town, with 
mills and factories that worked several hundred hands. 
He saw boys there as young as he, and asked for work. 
For more than two years he was almost happy. He earned 
his own living. He went to the night school sometimes. 
He had decent clothes and a place to stay. But one day 
his arm — his right arm — was caught in the machinery, 
and almost torn off. It was months getting well, and his 
little hoard of savings went to the doctor. And then he 
fell ill with something that they called “blood poi- 
soning.” Oh, it was a dreadful time ! They sent him, 
because he had no home, no folks to look after him, to 
the poorhouse. It was the best they could do, per- 
haps ; but it was a wretched place. It made him shud- 
der to think of it now. He often dreamed of it at night, 
and woke crying. And the first day he could leave the 
old straw bed in the dark, loathsome room, he stole away 
like a thief. He almost crawled along the road, he was 
so weak and in need of food. But it was summer. He 
could sleep outdoors ; and there were ripe berries on the 
mountain side. 

When he got to the house in the cove, where he had 
been living these two years now, he was foot-sore, tired to 
death nearly, almost starving. He meant to stop and beg 
for shelter and a piece of bread. But through the open 
door of the cabin he heard sounds that made his heart 
stand still — ^the piteous shrieks of a little child whom its 
mother was beating with a heavy strap. He had been 
beaten so, many a time, and he did not once stop to think 


14 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


whether it was right or wrong, or to remember his weak 
strength. He rushed in and threw himself between the 
wild-eyed woman and the poor little creature, a girl about 
four years old, and expected the blows to fall on him. 
But the mother seemed dazed. She merely looked at him 
with a crafty smile, and raised the child from the floor. 

He heard afterward that she was called “ the loon ” 
by the mountain folks, and at times was feared by all. 
She could be very fierce and dangerous. Everybody 
shunned the place. The husband was a miserable, spirit- 
less fellow, and made no effort to control her insane tem- 
per. He and the older children knew how to keep out 
of her way. But Mona, the baby, was often the victim 
of her rage. He had saved her life again and again, he 
said. What would happen if he went away, as he often 
thought of doing ? And, oh, he could not bear to see this 
tender little thing so cruelly used. He had learned to 
love her dearly — this helpless creature who clung to him, 
who crept to his arms for safety, who kissed him and called 
him the few fond names her baby lips had ever known I 
But for her, he would have gone away ; for they were 
herded like cattle in the one room and loft of the wretched 
cabin. He would have tried to find work elsewhere, for 
the longing of his life had been for books and schooling. 
He hated fiercely the misery, poverty, and helplessness of 
his eventless days. But he stayed on at the loon’s ” 
house for Mona’s sake, to protect, to defend her. And 
yet, what he feared had happened. And he himself had 
been the cause. He had forgotten to get some tobacco for 


A BOY WITHOUT FOLKS. 


15 


which she had sent him to the half-way store, and she 
sprang upon him with an iron poker, wild fury in her 
eyes. He dodged the blow, and it fell on Mona, little 
Mona, who had run to his side, only to receive the heavy 
stroke meant for him. 

There was a black line on her temple, and — she 
never spoke again. She lingered for a night and a 
day ; and he thought it would be a comfort if a real par- 
son could tell her a little about heaven before she went. 
She might feel strange and a bit frightened Avhen she got 
there, such a fine, large place, unless somebody told her 
how to do, who to speak to first, and things of that sort. 
He had been very kind indeed, and so had the lady, but 
Mona was past hearing anything then. She died at mid- 
night. They were digging her grave where he had begged 
them to — on the sunny slope yonder, where the first vio- 
lets bloomed — violets as blue as Mona’s eyes. Well, no- 
body could harm her now. He ought to be glad she was 
safe in heaven. 

Who taught him about heaven ? Why, his mother. 
Strange, but he remembered ever so much that she told 
him just before she died ! She taught him to pray too ; 
to go to God for what he wanted, and left him her Bible. 
He left it behind when he ran away from the farmer’s 
house, years ago. He had always been sorry since. Yes, 
he could read a little. He had gone to the night school 
some. No, he could never go back there to live — not 
after what had happened ; but he knew a man who wanted 
a boy for the harvest season, and after that Well, he 


16 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


was young and strong now, and could find work. She 
must not be troubled about him. And she had helped 
him, oh, so much ; far more than he could say. Nobody 
had ever spoken to him so kindly since his mother died ; 
and he would never forget her as long as he lived. If 
she was only a little girl, she knew how to comfort 

folks, leastways a poor boy that ” 

But here “ the little girl ” suddenly sprang to her feet 
and stood listening. There were voices loudly calling her 
by name. 

“ Oh, I am so sorry ! I must go this very moment ! 
Mother may be anxious about me. I wanted to help you, 

I wanted you to remember me^ ; but now ” 

“ Oh, I’ll remember you fast enough ! ” said her new 
acquaintance, assuringly. “ It’s so good in you to be sorry 
for me.” 

“ And I’ve something I want to give you ; something 
I’d like you to keep and read for my sake,” she said, 
hurriedly. 

“ Is it a book ? ” 

She nodded, with dignity. 

‘•'Will your folks mind, and get after you if ” 

“ No, indeed. It’s my very own, to do as I please with. 
Can you come to the hotel this afternoon and. get it ? ” 

“ To-night, p’rhaps — after dark.” 

“We shall be gone before that. Couldn’t I leave it 
somewhere ? ” 

“ There’s a fallen tree at the top of the hill. I’d find 
whatever you put under that.” 


A BOY WITHOUT FOLKS. 


17 


The suggestion pleased her. She knew there could be 
no harm in leaving her little gilt-clasped Bible as a part- 
ing gift to the desolate boy ; and who could tell how much 
good he might learn from its sacred pages. But for 
the teasing ways of her brothers, it need not be kept a 
secret. 

Long before nightfall, the travelers wbo had come to 
the “ Belle View House ” by the stage of yesterday had 
gone their several ways. 

The minister and his young wife, whose bright journey 
had known but one sad episode — this call to the deathbed 
of a child sent there by its own mother’s hand — were 
now speeding across the wide, level plains of the West, 
eii route to the far-away Southern home where they were 
to carry on their life work. 

The mother and her three children were hurrying 
southward also ; pining a little for the dear old home, 
with its gracious calm, its sweep of lawn, its happy-looking 
nooks and corners steeped in sunshine, soft with shade, 
which awaited them there. 

The boy found a small parcel, wrapped and tied by 
childish, unaccustomed fingers, underneath the fallen tree. 
But for this, he might have wondered if this dark-eyed 
little stranger who had pitied him and spoken to him so 
gently, was only a myth, a being of his idle fancy — but 
for this, and the scrap of writing inside. 

He waited till the harvest moon had risen, spelling out 
with difficulty even then, the brief message she had left 
behind ; 

B 


18 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


Please read for my sake. I am sorry I forgot to ask 
your name. If you get in any trouble, let me know. 

Leslie Hope. 

There was no further address. And so the lives which 
had touched for such a brief, flitting moment, were rudely 
sundered already. Would they ever meet again in this 
changeful, shifting world of ours, and — when ? 


CHAPTER 11. 


LESLIE AT HOME. 

rriHAT was a good sermon you gave us to-day, my 

-L dear,” said Mrs. Raynor, as she tied a large 
apron over her best black dress preparatory to making 
the minister’s Sunday cup of coffee, a rare addition to 
the noonday meal. 

“ Do you really think so ? ” he asked, looking up with 
a sudden brightness on his face. 

She, loving, tender wife that she was, fancied he felt 
more weary than usual, as he sat by the window in silence, 
leaning his head on his thin hand ; and she longed to say 
something to rest and cheer him. 

“ Yes, indeed,” she went on, as she bustled about, low- 
ering a shade and setting wide the door, that he might 
have all the coolness and comfort the intense heat made 
possible, while she was busy elsewhere. “Everybody 
was talking about it. It did me good to hear so many 
speak in its praise. And as for me, I don’t know when 
I have enjoyed a sermon half so much.” 

“ I am very glad,” said her husband ; “ but I can’t 
think how I happened to impress people in that way, to- 
day. I could scarcely force my brain to work when I 
went into the pulpit. The heat seemed to weigh me down 
like a heavy hand. It must have been the new face in 


20 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


Deacon Hope’s pew — such a sweet, fresh young face — 
that inspired me. I did not mind the close air, nor old 
Dr. Greyson’s snoring at all, when I had once seen that.” 

Why, don’t you know who she is ? Leslie Hope, 
the deacon’s only daughter, just home from boarding 
school, where she has been three years or more. She left 
when we had been settled here only a few days ; but I 
remembered her at once. She was a lovely child ; and I 
am sure, from her sweet looks to-day, that she has fulfilled 
all her youth’s fair promises.” 

She reminded me of some one I had seen before, some- 
where,’' said the minister, musingly. “When I first 
looked in her face this morning, I seemed to recall places 
and people of long years ago ; you and me as alone to- 
gether on some airy mountain peak, and the days full of 
sunshine and changes. And then came a sort of pall 
over the picture — tragedy, death, and a home of sin and 
misery, and a fair-faced child hovering over all — like a 
dream or vision.” 

“What can you have been thinking of?” asked his 
wife, her eyes growing dreamy and far-away in their look 
as well as his. “ Is it possible that this girl is the pretty, 
dark-eyed little thing we noticed on the gallery of that 
mountain hotel — 1 forget its name — when we were coming 
home from our memorable journey ; the place, you know, 
where the child was killed by its crazy mother, and a poor 
boy came for you and called you ‘ parson ’ ? Don’t you 
remember ? ” 

“ Yes, and no. There was something strangely familiar 


LESLIE AT HOME. 


21 


about the new face ; something that brought back van- 
ished and almost forgotten scenes. That is all ! But it 
is certainly refreshing to preach to such a listener once 
in a while. It is always an inspiration to a minister to 
have something more than an intellectual hearing. That 
girl, whether an old or a new acquaintance, listened with 
her heart.” 

‘‘Yes, she did. I noticed her absorbed expression my- 
self, and 1 don’t wonder that you found it ‘ inspiring.’ 
Do you know, I feel sure we are going to have a noble 
leader for our young members in this pretty Miss Hope ? ” 

“ But she is not a member herself, yet,” suggested the 
minister. “At least, her name is not on our church 
book.” 

“ It is only some things I have heard her friends say from 
time to time that makes me fancy the daughter a zealous 
worker and Christian. She was probably converted 
while away at school, if not a church-member before she 
left home. But do lie on the sofa over there,” added 
Mrs. Raynor, really going at last, “ and try to rest your- 
self in body and mind. I shall keep the children out- 
side in the shade, and not call you till <liuner is on the 
table.” 

The old sofa, with its fresh linen cover and lazy, red- 
bound pillows, was a comfortable lounging place; the 
dim coolness of the quiet room very soothing to tired 
nerves; some pleasant thought was making music of 
discords in the weary brain ; and the minister fell asleep. 

Young faces seemed hovering above him in brightness 


22 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


and beauty, one with a listening look and eyes of truth 
that changed, as he watched it, by the strange alchemy 
of dreams, into an uplifted heart that thanked and blessed 
him. 

He woke refreshed and strengthened, and the light of 
his cheerful smile brought brightness to all the rest in 
the house. 

And so, on the very first Sunday that Leslie Hope 
spent in her old home, she had helped the minister, none 
the less truly because unconsciously. 

But there was one who sat in her accustomed place in 
the old church that morning, whose heart was stirred by 
a vague unrest, whose mind wandered here and there, 
vexed by perplexing questions. This was Leslie’s mother, 
whose daughter, in the freshest and sweetest of summer 
toilets, sat at her side. And this too was the day to which 
they had both looked joyously forward — the first Sunday 
spent in the dear old home, when they would sit together 
in the well-beloved old church again. It had come just as 
they had hoped and planned, — a bright, perfect day of un- 
clouded sunlight, languorous breezes, and the rich odors 
of wildrose hedge and magnolia trees, now in full bloom. 

What was the matter ? Why was the mother restless 
and distraught through the solemn service of the morn- 
ing ? Who was to blame? 

When Leslie Hope left school and returned to her 
home in the suburbs of a thriving Southern city, the 
fondest welcome awaited her that an only and almost 
idolized daughter had a right to expect. Diploma and 


LESLIE AT HOME. 


23 


degree had been awarded her as a full graduate, and she 
had also borne away the honors of her class, a fact of 
which her parents were openly proud. 

She had been a very popular girl at the great boarding 
school, and was known among her many friends there as 
“ Bonnie Leslie,” a soubriquet which the mother thought 
at a first glance to suit her well. Bonnie she certainly 
was — and more. To eyes far less partial than her own, 
the bright young face held a charm better than beauty. 
It was sweet and fair, in a natural wild-flower sort of 
style ; a rare type among the young ladies of her day. 

Yet, even in the first hour of joyful reunion with her 
child, Mrs. Hope was conscious of a faintly defined feel- 
ing of disappointment. What had she expected Leslie 
to be at eighteen, that she was not ? The rapid inventory 
she had made of her young daughter’s manner, taste, and 
style, showed something lacking ; but what it was, she 
could not for her life decide. It resembled, more than 
anything she could think of, an unconsciousness of self ; 
the absence of personal vanity to such a degree as to 
make her appear far more like a happy, unspoiled child 
than a full-fledged young lady. What would “ the best 
society ” think of a manner like this — what, indeed ? 

Leslie had not, as it happened, attended a fashionable 
boarding school, but a Christian college, whose motto 
was : “ That our daughters may be polished after the 
similitude of a palace.” And now, as the first few days 
of her return home went by, Mrs. Hope began to feel a 
certain anxiety over this polishing. Had it been, after 


24 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


all, the kind Leslie had needed to make her a success as a 
young lady of wealth and distinction in the best society 
of the gay and cultured city she called home ? 

She had set her heart, long ago, on this one daughter’s 
future reign as a sort of queen in the social world about 
them. For years she had looked forward to the time 
when the pretty child would come back from school a 
beautiful girl, to make a brilliant debut in the most aris- 
tocratic circle of her native town. She had counted on 
her scoring all the triumphs possible for a sweet girl grad- 
uate, and then to create a decided sensation by her dress 
and style, her charms of beauty and manner in the fash- 
ionable world. 

And now, when it was all too late, poor Mrs. Hope — 
an excellent woman she was too — told herself, with much 
chagrin, that this “polishing after the similitude of a 
palace,” whatever that might mean, was, according to 
her notion, an utter failure, and not what Leslie needed 
at all. 

For the child was not anything like the stately young 
lady of whom the mother had been dreaming and cher- 
ishing such ambitious hopes. She was only the “ Bonnie 
Leslie ” of other days, — a little older, a trifle graver, with 
a flower-like face, a pair of soft brown eyes. The bright 
mind, noble heart, gentle bearing, and childish manner, 
were little changed. And she was still, as Mrs. Hope 
had often confided during the years of absence to her 
pastor’s wife, rather too religious. That those qualities 
which were indispensable to the reign of a belle were yet 


LESLIE AT HOME. 


25 


lacking, was undeniable. If Leslie ever filled the niche 
coveted for her by this ambitious mother, there was hard 
work to be done, and new lessons to be learned. Mrs. 
Hope would try the effect of another sort of polishing. 
She would endeavor to convert her father to her own 
views, wlio as yet could discover nothing in this one daugh- 
ter that was not perfect and delightful. She would talk 
over matters with her brothers too — easy-going, good-na- 
tured young men, devoted to their pretty sister, who had 
been from her birth their pet and plaything. They ought 
to wish her to make the most of herself, to become con- 
scious of her own power and charms. They ought to side 
with her on the point of those finishing touches which 
would make Leslie simply perfect. But Mrs. Hope did 
not expect the cordial support of her sons in her plans 
for the little sister’s improvement. She knew they would 
be decidedly skeptical of any changes she might mention, 
as in their eyes she was already many times more charm- 
ing than the society girls they knew, and who were not, 
perhaps, using their influence for good over the young 
men of the city. It might be best for her to say nothing 
to them, but work out her problem alone. 

What a long sermon Mr. Raynor was preaching this hot 
day ! Leslie must be tired to death, almost. But, no ! 
The child was listening quite as intently now as when he 
was taking his text. She had tried to catch that, at least, 
but was not certain that she could repeat it at this mo- 
ment. But Leslie had given attention enough for both. 
She had never seen such an absorbed look on her face. 


26 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


No one could suppose this her first Sunday at home among 
her old friends. She had not seemed to care a sixpence 
about her appearance, or the comments it would excite. 
True, the white dress was pretty enough, and the lace at 
throat and wrists real Valenciennes, and the pink rose she 
wore matched her cheeks to perfection ; but any other 
girl would have put on the changeable silk, trimmed with 
jewel-passementerie, no matter where the mercury stood, 
for this first Sunday. She did not like Leslie to be differ- 
ent from others. She had no fancy whatever for strange 
girls. 

And here her reverie ended ; for she found herself bow- 
ing her head with the rest while the minister pronounced 
the benediction. The organist began to play, very softly, 
some fine old music that gained in power and melody for 
a little, and then died away into silence. The congrega- 
tion was passing out. The service was over. 

Beyond the university buildings, there were some hand- 
some, mansion-like residences, with stretches of lawn and 
vine- wreathed verandas, and now and then a neglected- 
looking, castle-like structure, grim landmarks of other 
days, shut in by lines of sombre spruce and pine. But 
the last house on this wide, sunny street was unlike all 
the rest. It had a quaint individuality all its own, and 
was a large, rambling building, added to more than once 
during the last half-century. Its approach was guarded 
by the towering live oaks of that region, and beyond this 
leafy tunnel of dim shade sloped a wide lawn, whose 
velvet of fine turf was broken only by the gay parterres 


LESLIE AT HOME. 


27 


of many-hued flowers which one finds everywhere in this 
land of the summer and the sun. A slender fountain, 
making miniature rainbows in the sunshine, shot up to 
the right of the long colonnade, supported by the heavy 
pillars of last century mold, and on the left lay a white 
graveled path that led to an old-fashioned garden, where 
all colors and perfumes were blended ; a spot half-trim, 
half-wild, a lovely wilderness, dearer to the owners than 
the finest park or modern pleasure ground could be. 

About both house and grounds was an air of homely, 
but thorough prosperity. They seemed meant for use 
and enjoyment ; not for show or vanity. The curiously 
wrought iron gate, on which perched a flying dragon, 
made of bronze, swung open to admit the carriage. 

This was Leslie’s home. 


CHAPTER III. 


A. STRANGE GIRL. 

6 6 II /r OTHER,” said Leslie, coming into the pleasant 
-ltX sitting room where Mrs. Hope sat sewing, “ do 
you think our minister’s wife will remember me ? She 
had just come to Ashland, you know, when I went away 
to school, and I have changed a good deal in three 
years.” 

Her mother looked up for a moment or two before she 
replied. The child certainly made a fair picture in that 
simple white dress, with a cluster of velvet-leaved violets 
in her belt. 

“ What does it matter whether she remembers you or 
not, child? You surely are not thinking of calling this 
afternoon at the parsonage?” 

“ But I am thinking of that very thing,” said Leslie, 
with her frank smile. “ I must know our pastor’s family, 
of course, and I want to make them a visit first of all. 
It is a fancy of mine to have them for friends at once.” 

“You have all sorts of fancies and a good deal of non- 
sense, in that queer mind of yours,” declared her mother, 
with a little sigh, “ or you would wait until Mr Raynor 
has called upon you. You have been at home almost a 
week now, and I expected his wife to show you at least 
that much attention. It is a little strange how often 
28 


A STRANGE GIRL. 


29 


people in their position neglect the plainest social 
duties.” 

“ It may be that their work is very heavy, mother dear. 
A city pastorate is full of care, and anxiety too, I should 
think. Perhaps they are obliged to leave much undone, 
even when they are doing their very best. And I am 
not going to think of formality or ceremony where my 
pastor and his wife are concerned. Have you any mes- 
sage for Mrs. Raynor, or anything at all that you wish to 
send by me as a sort of excuse or apology for my coming, 
eh, mother ? ” 

“ No, I think not, child.” 

But Mrs. Hope’s eyes unconsciously strayed from the 
daughter’s expectant face to the little rose garden just 
outside, in full view of the open window, and very lovely 
in the vivid beauty of June. 

“ The very thing ! ” exclaimed Leslie, with a childish 
delight, eagerly translating the glance in her own fashion. 
“ I’ll cut a great bunch of the sweetest and freshest — no 
one has such roses as we — to take Mrs. Raynor, with your 
love. May I really have all I want, mother ? ” 

“ Why, yes, child. I don’t care what you do with the 
roses ; but I wish I knew ” 

“ What, mother ? ” 

“Well, for instance, why your thoughts all seem to be, 
at least, for other people, not yourself? Most girls of 
your age are apt to think about what others are to do for 
them. It is wholly the reverse of this with you, Leslie. 
I am quite sure there are very few girls in the city of 


30 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


your rank in society who would regard a visit to that 
shabby little parsonage on this hot afternoon as a duty 
even, much less as a special pleasure, as you appear to do. 
And then most of them would hardly be planning to 
carry their finest roses to people who are all but strangers. 
They would be wondering — and very naturally too, I 
think — whether their toilet was tasteful and perfect ; what 
impression it would make on the friends they met, and 
things of that kind. If you were not a — a strange girl, 
you would be doing it yourself.’’ 

“ Am I a ‘ strange girl ’ ? ” echoed Leslie, a little frown 
of perplexity contending with the laughing beauty of her 
eyes. “Nobody ever called me that at school, and it 
doesn’t sound a bit nice, someway. I never used to like 
peculiar, ‘ strange girls ’ at all ; and I did think about my 
dress, mother. I thought about it ever so long — a full 
minute, pernaps. That is why I chose such a pretty one 
to wear. And these lovely violets are made to go with 
white dresses. Don’t you think so ? ” 

“You look very well, dear,” said Mrs. Hope, more 
gently, “ and are suitably dressed for a visit to a quiet 
place like the parsonage. Mrs. Raynor is a very plain 
little woman. Never mind what I said about your 
strange ways. Take all the flowers you want. And go 
through the university grounds, as you are to walk — 
though there is no earthly reason why you should not 
have ordered out the carriage.” 

“ Only that I so much preferred taking a quiet stroll 
along the paths that skirt the woods and fields, so dear to 


A STRANGE GIRL. 


31 


me when a child. I wanted to see how they look now I 
am grown up.” 

“You are still as much like a child, in many respects, 
as ever,” said the mother, going back to the sewing 
Leslie’s entrance had interrupted. “ But take the rose 
scissors from the hook there, and here is a pretty basket 
for your flowers. Don’t hurry or tire yourself on the 
way ; and give our love to the Raynors.” 

Once in the rose garden, the girl began a delightful 
clipping here and there, nor left off until her basket 
overflowed with its fragrant wealth as 

Red as the wine of forgotten ages, 

Yellow as the gold of the sunbeams spun, 

Pink as the gowns of Aurora’s pages, 

"White as the robe of a sinless one. 

And then she went her way, rejoicing in the strong, 
bright sunshine of the summer day, taking in with eager 
glance the landscape, beloved and familiar to her child- 
hood, stretching far and wide about the quaint old town. 

To the young and happy the world is always beautiful. 
What is it that gives to them such • keen delight in look- 
ing at earth and air and water? They who enjoy most 
and deepest are those too to whom life comes as a 

Frugal matron, neat and deft, 

leaving as her best riches 

The cheerful morning thoughts and quick device 
To find the much in little, 

as Leslie Hope did with such sweet unconsciousness, little 


32 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


dreaming that it made her strange, unlike the other girls 
of her mother’s acquaintance, at least. 

Her heart was very light as she followed the path 
which divided a long strip of woodland from the sunny 
fields. She was still on her father’s land — for the Hope 
estate covered many acres — and was not inclined to 
hurry past the scenes and places dear to her childish 
years. Instead, she lingered to drink into her very soul 
the beauty above and about her, the glowing gladness of 
all nature, and smiled up at the open sky which seemed 
to bend down in loving sympathy. It was indeed an 
afternoon of such rare perfection one need scarcely be 
told that it belonged to June, that fair and leafy month. 
There was a gold-dust shower in the air that reminded 
her of Indian summer ; but the waving fields of yellow 
grain were not yet ready for the harvesters. 

The joy of summer was no vanished thing. 

The sweet, clear call of a bird, poised airily on a bough 
above her head, made her stop to look up and to smile at 
him. It sounded like a thrush, and recalled a time when 
in such glad sunshine as this she had played, a happy 
little girl, all day long in this pine wood, finding birds’ 
nests, and the pretty speckled eggs, — longed for but never 
touched, — and gathering the early, delicate wild flowers 
which she wove and bound into wreaths and garlands. 
She had felt something strange, mysterious, but beautiful, 
in the silent companionship of tree and sky; the great 
unknown world seemed to her then full of poetry and 
romance, and her dreams of the future were only pleasant 


A STRANGE GIRL. 


33 


fancies, ideal webs, woven in the mystic loom of a child’s 
imaginings. 

What was the real world in comparison? Had any 
of the dreams become realities, now that her young life 
was weaving in the warp and woof of womanhood, 

when busy passion plies 

Tlie shuttle to and fro, and gives our deeds 
The accustomed pattern ? 

And was it true that 

But here her solitary reverie was broken. Woods, 
fields, and lanes were all passed by, and she had reached 
the broad avenue beyond the university grounds, and 
the main thoroughfare of the picturesque old city. For 
shaded by live oaks, standing in stately ranks, a triple 
row, the wide street afibrded promenades so pleasant that 
the young people came and went in merry throngs. And 
on certain weekdays, when gallant platoons of cadets 
went by in gay parade dress, it became a sort of Corso, 
as bright with pageants and as full of life as was that 
ancient highway in the festive days of Rome. Leslie 
■was no longer alone with nature and her own thoughts, 
though the stagnant life and oppressive heat gave even 
to the boulevard an unwonted air of stillness and deser- 
tion. In the heart of the town a long line of awnings 
shut out the fierce glare of the June sun. Men lounged 
on the shady corners, or sat idly gazing at the passer-by 
from the doorways. • Business was evidently a thing of 
the past, or of the future, on this hot, breathless after- 
noon. 

c 


34 


A THEEAD OF GOLD. 


One of the little Raynors answered Leslie^s ring, and 
she was ushered at once into the family sitting room. 

In thinking of it afterward, she could not help fancy- 
ing that for one brief moment at least her coming had 
been an unwelcome surprise, for Mrs. Raynor’s kindly 
face had worn at sight of her a pained, even startled, 
glance. 

She was standing before an old-fashioned sofa, drawn 
near the wide-open window, arranging carefully and ten- 
derly a bandage on the arm of the oldest boy — not her 
boy, in very truth, as Leslie was to learn, but an adopted 
son, taken home to their hearts years before, a sacred 
legacy from dying lips, and cherished almost as lovingly 
as their own little ones who came afterward. 

Harold Raynor was a handsome lad, looking even 
older than his sixteen years, but his fine young face wore 
a cloud now. He was pale and sullen, and his eyes had 
an expression of gloom and defiance. He hardly spoke 
or moved when his mother introduced her pretty guest. 
It was partly for this, perhaps, that Mrs. Raynor wished 
to atone in the warmth of her own greeting. Her mam 
ner was cordiality itself, and won over at once the girl’s 
heart. 

“Yes, indeed, I remember you very well,” she said, 
with Leslie’s hand still clasped in her own ; “ although we 
were in Ashland only a day or two before you went 
away, and you were not nearly so tall then as now. And 
I am so glad that you have not waited for us to call 
before coming to the parsonage. I have wanted to send 


A STRANGE GIRL. 


35 


you a message at least ; but even that small courtesy 
seemed impossible. Our baby was taken ill on the very 
next day after we saw you at church, and my husband is 
broken down with nursing and anxiety combined, or he 
would most certainly have called to bid you welcome 
home for both. And then Harold came home from the 
university. He had had an accident, poor boy ! And 
you know by your own brothers, perhaps. Miss Leslie, 
how much ‘ mothering ’ a boy needs.” 

Mrs. E-aynor smiled as she stroked the brown head — ■ 
a handsome head it was — but Harold seemed to resent 
even that gentle touch. He sighed restlessly, and turned 
away his face. 

What was it that Leslie Hope caught a fleeting glimpse 
of at this moment ? Kept out of the sight of all, hidden 
away as far as possible, she had been face to face, she felt 
sure, with the skeleton of the Kaynor home. And certain 
words lately spoken about neglect of the plainest social 
duties — her mother’s words — rang in her ears once more. 
They smote her with remorseful pain, as if she herself 
had uttered them. She heard a deep voice cry warningly, 
“ Judge not ! ” and in her heart she sought forgiveness for 
the one who had uttered them. But she said nothing, 
for the sick baby awoke with a startled Cry, and began 
tossing feverishly to and fro in the small cradle. The 
tender mother tried her most soothing arts in vain to 
quiet her, if not to woo sleep to the restless eyes again. 
But the poor little thing seemed racked with pain. One 
pitiful wail followed another from those fever-parched lips. 


36 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


It took but a moment for Leslie to lay aside her hat 
and gloves and seat herself in the mother’s place. She 
said no word at first, only rocked the cradle with a gentle 
hand, holding the roses, meanwhile, in full view of the 
baby’s eyes. But when the wan little face began to take 
on a look of peace, she thought of an old lullaby song 
dear to her own nursery days, and tried the effect of sing- 
ing it softly. It was not long, only a few moments, in- 
deed, until Baby May’s wail was hushed entirely. The 
look of peace deepened into light, refreshing sleep. 

“ Dear me ! ” said Mrs. Raynor, looking on wonder- 
ingly, almost tearfully; “you 'must have charmed my 
poor little baby ! Where did you learn to do such lovely 
things, child ? ” 

And the minister s wife would fain have found some- 
thing unusual and extraordinary about the young crea- 
ture who sat rocking with gentle, steady touch the little 
one’s cradle, and smiling for sole reply into her tired 
face. But, look as she would, there was nothing what- 
ever to suggest the superior woman, a personage she had 
learned to dread and fear rather than love. She saw 
only a simple girl, lovely in person, endearing in manner, 
with the charm of a w’oman and the naivete of a child ; 
and her own warm, motherly heart went out at once with 
loving welcome to the stranger. 

She longed for her husband to come in now, if only for 
a brief glance at the beautiful picture — Leslie with her 
roses by the sick baby’s side. And there was his step in 
the hall. 


A STRANGE GIRL. 


37 


The strong, bright sunshine in which young creatures 
like Leslie Hope rejoiced, had sadly tried the worn 
pastor to-day. He came into the room feebly, his thin 
face even paler than it had been on Sunday. There was 
something about his very smile that went to Leslie’s heart, 
and haunted her long afterward. It had a pathetic 
quality that touched her and seemed to say that the smile 
had been an effort, quick, warm, and kindly, as it was. 

She enjoyed the little talk with him that followed. 
Mr. Raynor had a cordial manner, a cheery way, that 
suited well “ the face all women need must trust and 
when Leslie had gone home, leaving the roses for Baby 
May and the incense of her own presence behind, she 
could not help recalling some lines she had once read or 
heard that seemed to describe her new friend and pastor ; 

An arm on which may safely lean 
The aged man, the timid maid, 

And yet which well may make afraid 
The rude, the coward, or the mean: 

A spirit pure and fine and true 
As ever dwelt in human form, 

A love as deep, as fond, as warm, 

As ever lovir.g woman knew. 

It was the next day that she came to her father's side, 
as he smoked his pipe of peace in the twilight, seated in 
his favorite arm-chair in a breezy corner of the veranda, 
and announced that she had come for a little talk with 
him. 

“I know what you want,” began the old deacon, with 
his indulgent smile — a smile won by the caress of her soft 


38 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


cheek on his hand. “ It’s money for a new gown, or a 
bonnet, or a bracelet, maybe. Which is it, my girl, and 
how much? ” 

But Leslie for an answer said gravely : 

I have been wondering why Mr. Kaynor does not 
take a vacation. Do you know, father dear ? ” 

Deacon Hope repeated her words rather vacantly. 

“ What do you mean, my child ? ” 

“Why, just what I said! The church certainly must 
think it best for our pastor to go away for a good rest this 
hot weather ; and so why does he not select some cool, 
quiet spot, and go ? ” 

“ But our church has not had any such thought as this. 
You put notions into its head yourself. Our pastor has 
not been accustomed to take a vacation. It is not quite 
so common in these parts as in some others, you see.” 

“ But why should we think of that? Could he not go, 
even though it has not been common ? ” 

“Well, yes. But the baby is sick; and Harold — that 
wild boy — had a difficulty at the university, and has been 
sent home in disgrace. The minister could not go away 
now, even if he were able to afford a trip. It takes every 
penny cf his salary ‘ to make tongue and buckle meet,’ 
as the saying is.” 

“ As for the sick baby,” said Leslie, beginning to get 
rid in her own fashion of these several obstacles, “ I can 
take care of her, or at least help a great deal. She is 
very much better to-day, I hear, and will learn to love 
me, I hope, when we are acquainted with each other. 


A STRANGE GIRL. 


39 


Harold, * the wild boy,’ as you call him, can certainly be 
left to his mother. I saw at a glance on yesterday that 
he is devoted to her. And, father, we can pay our pas- 
tor's expenses.” 

The brief twilight had brightened into moonlight, and 
weird forms, made by its magic power, began to people 
the stretch of lawn before them, and clothe the dear old 
home in a fair, mysterious beauty. It lent even a new 
charm to the girl’s pleading face, so near his own ; the 
pathos of its gentle appeal plainly shown by the soft 
white light. 

The old man’s dimning eyes were 'touched, but her 
last words were too surprising to be passed by. 

“ Upon my soul ! ” he exclaimed, in answer ; “ now 
whom do you mean by ‘ we ’ ? Just tell me that.” 

“ Why, the church, of course,” she went on, placidly, 
stroking his bald head with caressing touch. “ You have 
only to propose it, father, and I am sure they will all 
agree to it. He looked so worn and pale on yesterday. 
They can see how much he needs such a change as going 
away for perfect rest will be. When he feels well and 
strong he can come back, you know, and go about his 
work in such a different way. You’ll see to it, won’t you, 
dear father ? ” 

“ Yes, I will,” said the deacon, heartily, now that his 
own mind was made up. “ The poor fellow — our pastor, 
I mean — does need a chance to get a breath of rest, and 
build himself up by going off on a bit of a holiday or 
‘ vacation,’ as you call it. It’s a burning shame too, that 


40 


A THREAD OF GOT.D. 


nobody, not a soul, has proposed it before ! And the man 
hardly the shadow of himself too. How came you to 
think of such a capital plan, child ? Oh, yes. I’ll speak 
to the others. Your little scheme shall be carried out. 
Let me see! We must look after his expenses first of 
all — line his purse well with bankbills — eh, Leslie? 
Well, you’ll want a ‘finger in the pie,’ as a matter of 
course ; and your mother won’t willingly let a good thing 
get on foot without her help. We’ll consult her about it 
right away. But here are two tens and a five for your 
share, my girl ; that will do for a sort of beginning — a — 
a nucleus, you know, for the rest to add to, to build upon 
— don’t you think so ? ” 

“ Of course I do I ” exclaimed Leslie, stooping to give 
him a tender kiss. “And you are so kind, so good, 
father ; you make me so happy I ” 

“ Anybody would suppose I had given you the bills for 
a trinket or gown, which I can easily do yet, and not miss 
it over-much,” said the deacon, rather pleased at this bit 
of flattery, and willing to hear more of it. 

“ But I have no end of pretty things, father — trinkets, 
gowns, and everything — a great trunk full. Only see that 
our pastor goes away for a long, lovely rest, with a full 
purse and a heart at ease about his dear ones, and I will 
be one of the happiest girls in the world.” 

“ Well, I will ! ■ But you are a strange girl, Leslie. As 
your mother says, you are a very strange girl.” 

“ I can’t think how they ever came to do it I ” exclaimed 


A STRANGE GIRL. 


41 


Mrs. Raynor, a week or two later, smiling and tearful. 
She had been reading a long letter from her absent hus- 
band — a letter full of life and freshness, not unlike that 
of the salt breezes that were giving him back such health 
and energy. “ It was just what he needed, the change of 
scene, the perfect rest ; and yet 1 can’t understand how it 
happened to occur to our people. Oh, it was a blessed 
thought ! How noble and generous in our deacons ! And 
all his expenses paid for four blissful weeks spent in ^ The 
Thousand Islands,’ weeks that will add years to his life, I 
am sure ! And his salary kept up just the same as when 
he is here ! Think of that ! Hear me ! It does seem too 
good to be true ; and yet it is true ! Oh, I can never 
thank and pray for them enough ! ” 

And Leslie, to whom the minister’s wife confided this 
rhapsody of devout thanksgiving, rejoiced with her, inno- 
cently declaring that it was lovely in the First Church 
people to send their pastor away for a much-needed vaca- 
tion, keeping to herself the leading part she had played 
in the matter for the one reason, if for no other, that Mrs. 
Raynor, knowing all, might consider her a “ strange girl ” 
too, a title she resented with growing dislike and distrust. 
For her life she could not see what she had done to 
deserve it. 


CHAPTER IV. 


WHIMS. 


INTER is usually the carnival season in the cities 



» * cf the South, particularly in the many where the 
reign of ice and snow is but a name, and a touch of per- 
petual summer lingers the whole year round. 

It is then that the fair debutante learns what gayety 
and dissipation really mean, and her new life seems a 
joyous succession of brilliant triumphs, an unbroken 
chain of delightful homage, subtle flatteries, and chivalric 
deference. No wonder, then, that winter offers the finest 
contrast to the sleepy, idle, languorous Southern summer ; 
no wonder that the youthful belle and votary of fashion 
resents the dull passage of the long, bright, cloudless days 
of the heated term, regarding it more as something to be 
endured than as a blessing to be rejoiced in. 

And yet not always, and not everywhere in the sunny 
Southland is this true. Ashland, quaint old town that it 
was, with an individuality which distinguished it from 
sister cities from the time a roving Indian tribe first saw 
the domain of wondrous beauty spread about it, was a 
notable exception to this rule. Not because it knew 
something of winter ; for even in December there was 
scarcely a hint of “Jack Frost,” and not for many years 
had the day daw^ned upon a white w’orld ; but this unique, 


42 


WHIMS. 


43 


picturesque old place had merely chosen a different time, 
and season for its festivities. There were certain reasons 
why midsummer should be considered by its light-hearted, 
pleasure-loving denizens as the carnival time of the 
year. 

Ashland, the ancient capital city, in gayer, more pros- 
perous days, was still the educational centre of the State, 
the seat not only of the military university, but of two 
flourishing women’s colleges, — to say nothing of high 
schools, free schools, and select schools, — and it was only 
natural that society should revolve around these institu- 
tions, cherished with a just pride. 

Commencement, in these halls of learning, had for so 
long brought in its train a climax of brilliant occasions, 
that it had now become the centre around which plans 
were formed and grouped for a long line of reunions and 
receptions to be participated in by these gay young people, 
and which invariably bore off the palm of all lovely 
times. 

The result was very evident. The cultured city began 
to gather even more than its share of distinct, and not 
altogether harmless, vanities. It grew over-fond of offer- 
ing incense in the form of undisguised flattery and open 
homage to the college girls and young cadets within its 
bounds, allowing these giddy and untrained young people 
to dictate at will the policy of its social life. 

What was one to expect of the best society, molded by 
such light elements as these ? Nothing more than a gay, 
butterfly type of life ; fit only for the fleeting, idle, in- 


44 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


constant sunny weather — a thing that perished with the 
using. 

It was natural too, for society thus formed to favor 
graces of person, beauty of face, and fashionable accom- 
plishments, far more than serious thought or intellectual 
gifts. Its highest ideal seemed only to combine a bril- 
liant and complex social life, whose motto was present 
enjoyment ; and hence they had no need or wish, in this 
charmed circle, for the gifted scholar, the mature thinker, 
or the widely cultured, who make the bone and sinew of 
the really best society. These grave people, these tire- 
some old fogies, were only in the way ; apt to discuss such 
dreadful subjects as a future life, eternity, even mention- 
ing death and the grave occasionally. What shocking 
taste, when the world was now so fair a paradise, intoxi- 
cating the senses with its boundless wealth and exhaust- 
less loveliness ! And life itself, as bright as the summer 
sky, lending its azure, cloudless and pure, above them. 

And so it was most natural, also, that the June festivi- 
ties should be opened in the usual way. The youthful 
cadets, with their handsome uniforms and manly bearino:, 
were ever the objects of gracious courtesies and atten- 
tions in the city of their Alma Mater, and needed now no 
second invitation to join the girls ; but just released from 
the hard bondage of the school room, graceful and at- 
tractive, for the most part, and ready to lavish their ver- 
satile gifts upon society, and to have, as they expressed it 
in school-girl parlance, no end of fun and good times with 
the boys. 


WHIMS. 45 

And this was the circle that welcomed Leslie Hope 
back to her native city, opening gladly to receive her ! 
This light-hearted band of the best society young people, 
devoted to pleasure for pleasure’s short-lived sake, whose 
ruling spirit was frivolity, offered to share with her a dan- 
gerous phase of life. It had, it was true, a warm human 
side, and the young lips that cried : “ On with the dance ! 
Let joy be unconfined ! ” were perhaps models of gentle 
courtesy ; the hearts craving only the passing delight of 
the moment, innocent and tender; and yet to Leslie, 
novice that she was, pure and unworldly to a degree, 
these thoughtless votaries at the shrine of pleasure and 
fashion offered peculiar temptations. The light fetters 
with which they would now bind her might strengthen in 
their remorseless grip, and bind her to a doom that has 
overtaken so many a devotee of the goddess pleasure. 

But Leslie’s mother saw nothing beyond the favorable 
opportunities of the season, now at its height, which 
awaited her daughter’s first appearance in society. Her 
own youth spent in a lonely country home, on a rather 
sterile farm, had been monotonous and eventless in the 
extreme. She had had no opportunities; no chances to 
seize upon and turn to account, save the one solitary piece 
of good fortune in meeting and marrying Mr. Hope ; but 
it was all as different as possible with Leslie, There were 
chances for a pretty, rich young girl, brought up as if 
born in the purple, as her one daughter had been, of 
which she herself, in her rather forlorn girlhood, had 
been destitute. Why, Leslie Hope might be anything 


46 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


she chose, with that flower-face and surroundings of 
wealth and position. She had only to wish to shine as a 
bright, particular star, to be the reigning belle of the 
season, and presto ! the thing was accomplished almost as 
though she had a fairy godmother at her beck and call. 

But, would the child wish it ? That was the trouble. 
It annoyed, even distressed Mrs. Hope, to see how little 
Leslie seemed to care for admiration and triumphs; what 
fleeting, uncertain interest she showed in the invitations 
showered upon her, or entertainments attended during the 
past two weeks of festive gatherings. And yet, where 
could one find a sw^eeter, gayer, merrier maiden than she 
in the home she had known and loved all her innocent 
young life ? Why, she laughed and chattered and sang 
all the long, bright days, flitting like a gay bird from 
room to room, greeting flowers, pets, and favorite nooks, 
in her happy, artless fashion. She had never seen such 
exhaustless spirits so wasted ! 

It might have been, after all, as she sometimes thought, 
a mistake to send her away to a grand school in the East, 
these last three years, when she might have finished at 
home in one of the city colleges, whose graduates were so 
polished, such ornaments to society. And yet, there w-as 
always a certain prestige given by these costly boarding 
schools. She had counted upon this as the one thing 
needful by a girl of rank and fortune like Leslie ; and 
any other girl would have made the most of it. 

There was always an under current of complaining in 
Mrs. Hope’s reflections when her pretty young daughter 


WHIMS. 


47 


was the subject, though she was accustomed to lay the 
blame for most that was wrong in her eyes on the train- 
ing received at school. She really believed, even when 
cherishing her gravest doubts as to the success of her ca- 
reer as a young lady, that she needed nothing more than 
to be taken in hand by herself. She had little idea that 
her task would prove difficult ; yet she found it nothing 
else, even from the first. 

For this “ Bonnie Leslie ” was guilty of some of the 
strangest whims, as the full, gay weeks of pleasure flitted 
by, that this ambitious, worldly-minded, yet loving-hearted 
mother had yet dreamed of. 

For instance, she refused an invitation to the Waver ly 
hop, the very cream of the season’s entertainments, for 
no better reason than this : It happened to be given on 
Wednesday evening, at the hour of the weekly prayer 
meeting in Mr. Raynor’s church. W as there ever such a 
girl, or a stranger whim than this ? 

Mrs. Hope resorted to tears. 

“ Oh, why did you do this — this surprising thing, Les- 
lie ? ” she demanded, wishing to use, but refraining from, 
a much stronger adjective. 

“Why?” echoed the child, turning from her weeping 
mother to her brother Frank, who had told the news and 
now lounged on the sofa, smiling rather wickedly. 
“ Why ? Just because I — I wished to. Do you mind, 
mother ? ” 

“ ‘ Wished to ! ’ ‘ Mind ! ’ ” repeated Mrs. Hope, al- 

most angrily. “ I never heard of anything so senseless in 


43 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


all my life. I could hardly believe it of you, Leslie. 
But Frank ” 

“ Oh, it is quite true, what he says, as for that ! ’’ said 
the girl, quickly, her bright face shaded for the moment. 
“ But I did not think you would care, mother dear.” 

“You don’t know in the least what you are talking 
about! That hop given by the Waverly — the most ex- 
clusive club in the city — is intended especially for the 
girls who come out this season. I only hoped you would 
be asked. I could not be certain of it ; and now — oh, 
I never dreamed of such folly 1 Millions of dollars will 
be represented there in jewels alone ; and your lovely 
pearls not even out of their cases, waiting to be worn on 
some grand occasion like this ! And to think of your 
blue and silver dress just sent home, a perfect dream of 
beauty! AYhere will you wear that, I would like to 
know ? ” 

“You can’t blame anybody but Leslie, mother,” put 
in Frank Hope, covertly enjoying this little scene. “She 
did not come to me for advice, or everything might be 
different.” 

“ I did not ask anybody’s advice,” said his young sister, 
very gently, though her color rose, “ but it did not occur 
to me that my refusal to accept w^ould trouble you, 
mother ; it did not, indeed ! I really like to attend our 
prayer meetings. We always went on Wednesday nights 
at school, never allowing any other engagement, or duty 
even, to interfere. And I truly thought that you and 
father would much prefer my going with you to-night 


WHIMS. 


49 


than to have me spend the long, hot hours in such a 
crowded place, when you know I do not care to dance 
or ’’ 

Frank’s sudden laughter and exclamation made her 
pause. 

“You’ve got your hands full, mother! ” he said, with 
something like a sneer. “ Imagine a society girl in Ash- 
land ‘ not caring to dance ’ ! She would only be a ‘ wall 
flower,’ if she went, instead of ‘ the belle of the ball,’ as 
you wish and expect her to be.” 

“ I do not believe it,” said Leslie, not daunted by this 
prophecy. “I have never been fond of dancing, yet 
wherever I have gone, I have had a splendid time. Still, 
I thought it only right to tell Mr. Wainthrop ” 

“ Mr. Wainthrop I ” 

Poor Mrs. Hope fell back in despair. This name was 
to her the last straw, of which the world has frequently 
heard, and will again. 

“And you declined his invitation, refused his escort?” 
she demanded, as if she must know the worst. 

“I certainly did, mother,” replied Leslie, with that 
serious sweetness and gentle dignity of manner that sat 
so charmingly upon her. “ I did do both ; but, as I said 
just now, I did not once imagine you would care. I 
know he is very handsome, and rich as well, but I heard 
Frank tell some one only a day or two ago that ‘ young 
Wainthrop did not always keep his head’; and when I 
asked brother Edwin afterward what that meant, he said, 

* drink.’ Don’t you remember, mother ? ” 
j) 


60 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


“ Why — yes. Not that I paid any attention to such 
foolishness, and Frank never means half he says. But 
Mr. Wainthrop is president of that club and belongs to 
the proudest family in the city — the very cream of the 
aiistocracy. Child, child, you have simply ruined your 
prospects in that direction ! He will never ask you to go 
anywhere with him again.” 

“I suppose that ought to make me very unhappy, 
mother dear,” said the girl, in her soft, caressing way, 
smiles and dimples reappearing on the innocent face, 
** but someway I don’t seem to — to feel so.” 

“ That you do not is only one of the many faults arising 
from your mistaken education, utterly unsatisfactory in 
almost every respect. I want you to be good, of course, 
as all mothers do. I do not object in the least to your 
attending the prayer meeting; but, on the contrary, it 
pleases me very much to have you go whenever there is 
no social duty, as in the present instance, to prevent. I 
think it well for even young people to be religious, and 
I have often talked in this way to your brothers, little 
heed as they paid to it. I would really like to see you, 
and so I am sure would your father, a church-member. 
Though, as you are only just ‘ out,’ and society demands 
so much of one these days, it may be best, perhaps, to put 
off a serious step like that for a little time. But you 
must really leave your engagements to me hereafter, 
Leslie. A few more false steps like this will put an end 
to all your popularity, and you were getting on rather 
well, I fancied. You certainly got some of the strangest 


WHIMS. 


51 


ideas in the world from that school, or somewhere. I 
must just take you in hand myself, to undo the work of 
those neglectful teachers, to get these fanatical notions 
out of your head before anything worse befalls you.” 

Mrs. Hope might have wondered less over this strange 
whim of her daughter had she known somewhat more of 
the years spent at the Christian college in the East ; if 
she had heard of the Saturday evenings there spent in 
Bible study ; of the “ training class,” in which Leslie had 
taken the deepest interest ; of the girls’ prayer meeting 
at the close of the quiet hour each Sunday afternoon ; of 
the weekly gathering of teachers and pupils, who talked 
of holy things together with familiar love and confidence, 
and planned their future work for Christ in distant homes, 
even “ Bonnie Leslie ” lifting up her timid voice with the 
rest. 

But the mother knew little of these things. The absent 
child had left them out of her home letters half uncon- 
sciously, feeling intuitively, however, that they would be 
of small interest. She had scarcely spoken since her 
return of these studies, or prayer and praise meetings, 
that now had become a sacred memory. Her mother was 
the dearest, best of women ; that she knew, and yet there 
was something in her views of life, in her worldly hopes 
and ambitious plans for the child’s future, that repelled 
such tender confidences, such heart-to-heart revealings, 
that made it hard, well-nigh impossible, for her to write 
or to tell her mother that she was longing above every- 
thing to come out on the Lord’s side, to claim Christ as 


52 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


her Saviour, to confess her new love for him. And so 
she had been silent, had said nothing of the strange, sweet 
hope and new joy with which her soul was thrilling, even 
now when her mother had referred to the serious step of 
church membership, to be taken possibly after a little 
time. 

A few days later, Mrs. Hope, in search of a new maga- 
zine, found her husband alone in the library. 

“I am very glad indeed of this opportunity,” she 
began, dismissing the object of her visit from her thoughts 
and taking the easy-chair near him, “ for I am anxious 
to consult you about a plan of mine, and was only waiting 
to see you alone, so that we can talk the matter over 
together. I am thinking of taking Leslie to some water- 
ing place, not too far away or too ultra fashionable, to 
spend a month. What do you say ? ” 

“ Does the child want to go ? ” asked the deacon, in 
some surprise. 

“That’s an unimportant consideration in my opinion, 
dear. The question should be, whether it is the best 
thing to be done under the circumstances. She needs to 
get away from certain influences, to see a little of the 
world, to be thrown constantly into society, and so receive 
a few finishing touches as a young society girl, which are 
all she needs to make her simply perfect. Don’t you 
understand ? ” 

“ She is simply perfect already, in my eyes,” said the 

father, fondly, “ and unless she herself would like to go 

1} 


WHIMS. 


53 


“Oh, Leslie will like it,’' said his wife, hurriedly, “and 
I know a place that will suit admirably — new, in its 
second season only, much sought after by the best people 
of the State, yet not too crowded. I have already written 
on for select rooms to be reserved, knowing that you 
would agree wdth me in thinking it best for the child. 
Now, we have only to have a few evening dresses made 
and then we will get off at once. In the meantime, if an 
opportunity presents, don’t you think you ought to lecture 
Leslie a little about her fanatical ideas and try to make 
her more like other girls? You don’t know how such 
notions stand in her way, as not caring to dance and 
disliking cards. If she were a church-member, of course 
I should not say a word. I am sure I would not expect 
such things of her then any more than of myself. But, as 
it is, I cannot understand why she should be so strict, so 
puritanical. Why, all Ashland is already calling her 
‘a fair fanatic.’ Well, who can wonder? Don’t forget 
now, dear. A word or two from you will do her a world 
of good.” 

The opportunity presented itself almost at once, when 
Leslie, firmly but sweetly, declined to hear Patti sing a 
second evening in the beautiful new opera house, and went 
instead to a mass missionary meeting at the Garrison 
Street Church with some friends of hers who were mem- 
bers there. 

“ Your mother begins to think you a very willful girl, 
Leslie dear,” began her father, as they sat together on 
the veranda in the twilight the next evening. “Can’t 


54 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


you care a little more for society, operas, parties, and such 
things, if only to please her? She had great hopes, you 
know, of your leading off among the young folks, being a 
sort of ‘ belle,’ as she expresses it, and it is natural that 
she should be a trifle disappointed. She says too that 
she is afraid you are growing a little — just a shade, per- 
haps — fanatical.” 

The good deacon rather hesitated over this last word. 
He was looking at his pretty daughter, sitting in a stray 
gleam of the dying light, a gleam that brought out vividly, 
even to his dim eyes, the gracious curves of her form, the 
flower tints of her face, and it seemed hard to call her 
anything that was not quite perfection. He was a fond 
father, and Leslie, the youngest born and the one 
daughter, was the darling of his heart. 

She had been idly watching the sheen and shade of 
the fading sunshine at play on the polished floor at the 
western end of the long porch, but now she came and 
stood before him, her eyes full of surprise and pain. 

‘‘ How can any one call me fanatical, father, when I 
have never once discussed or decided the right and wrong 
of the things I simply disliked, and for that reason only 
refused to engage in ? Is that being fanatical, not enjoy- 
ing certain pleasures ? ” 

“Not a bit, in my way of thinking, dear child, not a 
bit. But young folks are expected, as a matter of course, 
to be fond of society and their many fads. Don’t you 
see, Leslie ? ” 

“But I do like society very much,” she went on, 


WHIMS. 


55 


brightly, as if glad to explain things in her own way. 
“ 1 do indeed, and I am just as fond of good times as any 
girl could be. But now and then pleasures conflict, — 
‘the embarrassment of riches,’ as Frank expresses the 
situation, — and what is one to do then but to choose the 
one liked best ? That is the way I have done.” 

“ Do you mean to say,” asked Mr. Hope, with a grati- 
fied glance at the candid face and earnest eyes of his 
child, “ that in this last instance you actually liked best 
to hear the lecture on China from the returned missionary 
instead of Patti, the great diva and gifted songstress? 
Were you glad afterward that you chose Garrison Street 
Church and the mass meeting rather than the opera box 
and the prima donna f Tell me that.” 

“ I truly was, father dear, but it is nothing surprising, 
nothing to be wondered over, when you, know all about it 
and just how' it happened. The ‘divine Patti,’ as she is 
called, sang several evenings in the grand concert hall 
connected with our school buildings, and often used when 
a large audience was to be accommodated. I heard her 
more than once in the very role in which she appeared 
here, although I enjoyed intensely listening to her again 
on the evening you were so kind as to take that lovely 
box for us. Don’t you see now how it was? And I 
have ever been curious to hear about China, that strange, 
benighted country ; besides, I had promised Kate Overall 
several days before that I would come to hear the lecture, 
to say nothing of the engagement I had made with her 
brother as my escort to church. Why, there was no other 


56 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


way to act, after I had given my word, was there, father ? 
And don’t you understand it all now ? ” 

“The light does begin to break just a very little, I 
confess,” said Mr. Hope, smiling in an odd way she knew 
of old. “ But is it best to neglect an opera for church- 
going, or even one’s duty ? Is it not a little fanatical to 
go in the way your duty lay, under the circumstances ? ” 

“ I am much happier when I do that — always,” said 
the girl, in a low voice, with eyes cast down. “ And if I 

might, without troubling or annoying any one, I ” 

“But, my darling child,” said her father, suddenly 
remembering that he was making no headway whatever 
in winning her away from fanatical ideas, and this chance 
for doing so would soon be gone, “ I want to talk to you 
a little. Now, listen to me. Piety, religion, is a good 
thing for you to h^ve, a beautiful thing in woman. The 
only danger is in becoming too much absorbed, too deeply 
in earnest. It is right that you should wish to do your 
duty, to be interested in church work, Christian benevo- 
lence, brotherly kindness, and all such things. I am glad 
to see it, very glad. I wish in all truth that our church, 
at least, had more like you. Your mother’s views on 
these matters are, however, somewhat different from mine. 
But she is a noble, excellent woman, far better than I. 
My experience is, that she is generally right on questions 
of this kind and a safe guide for you, Leslie. You had 
better follow her advice, child. I think she wishes you 
to care a little more for society for a year or so, perhaps, 
not allowing your religious duties to interfere too much 


WHIMS. 57 

— to be, in short, neither an extremist in fashion or piety. 
Do you understand, little girl ? ” 

“ Why, father,” she exclaimed, tears in her eyes at last, 
“you and mother are both wrong — mistaken. I do not 
even dare call myself a Christian yet. Oh, I want to 
be one, but the way is all dark. I have been trying, but 
it does no good. I was longing to ask you to help me, 
father.” She wept on the breast to which he had folded 
her. 

“ My precious child ! ” he cried, fondly, clasping her 
closely, his own eyes full. “ You are far too good already. 
I am very sure you have given, consciously or otherwise, 
your young heart to the Saviour, and your old father 
thanks God for it. But I have known it for some time. 
It is easy to see that you are following him, loving and 
serving him, darling. And it is your conscience, often 
over-tender in the beginning of Christian life, that makes 
you exaggerate your faults, prevents you from claiming 
your rights to place and name as a child of God. And 
it is easy to discover in your nature the elements of both 
martyr and fanatic, the one point I would have you watch 
in future, for your own good. You are a very dear child, 
Leslie, and ” 

“ But, father, I want to be sure that I am a Christian. 
I want to come out publicly and confess my Saviour 
‘ before men,’ and do all he commands me. I want to 
spend my whole life in his service.” 

“ Then have no more doubts, child ; only a converted, 
changed heart longs to spend and be spent for Christ. 


5a 


A THKEAD OF GOLD. 


Go with your mother to this summer resort, as she so 
much wishes. Your young life was given you for enjoy- 
ment as well as for more noble purposes. We are to 
work and play both, at least while our youth lasts. Say 
nothing to your mother until you return to the city — that 
would be best, perhaps ; but you shall do just as you like 
then with your life, shall have your own way as to how 
it is to be spent, and I pray God you may be the means 
of bringing your poor brothers, about whom I am greatly 
troubled, to the safe fold you have found for yourself. 
Ah, Leslie, there is plenty of work for such as you ! I 
am tempted to ask you to begin now.” 

“And so I will,” she whispered, beaming on him 
through a mist of happy tears like a soft rainbow. 
“That is just what I mean to do. Oh, father, I wish we 
need not go away I Ours is such a dear, beautiful old 
home ; I love every nook and corner of it.” 

“ So do I, dear, as for that matter, and I am growing 
too old myself to leave it much or often. But you are 
young and will enjoy the place your mother has chosen. 
She needs the change, if we do not, and I would not. have 
my girl selfish. In two or three weeks you’ll be back 
again, you know. And the mountains are in all their 
summer glory now.” 

“ I am glad it is among the mountains,” said Leslie, 
with a little sigh, “ if only to remind me of the grand old 
Rockies that we saw something of at that time we trav- 
eled through the West when I was little. I told you 
about my seeing Mrs. Raynor — she was a bride then— with 


WHIMS. 


59 


her husband on the veranda of the Belle View House, a 
hotel perched up almost among the clouds. Wasn’t it 
strange ? How little I dreamed then that she would one 
day be my pastor’s wife, living too in my own home, dear 
old Ashland! I wonder if she remembers that poor, 
ignorant orphan boy who came for the parson to tell a 
dying child about God while we were there. I have 
meant to ask her before, and I will some time. I remem- 
ber him, and often wish I knew what has become of him, 
the forlorn, desolate lad, without home or friends, the one 
little creature he had to love, dead I But, dear me, the 
years that have made me, a girl of ten at that time, a 
grown young lady, have made him a man, if he is living. 
Did I ever tell you about him, father, the poor boy to 
whom I gave my little Bible when we were traveling 
home through the Rockies ? No ? Why, that is strange.” 

Then, sitting where the white moonlight fell athwart 
the face, “ untouched by the old wrecker, time,” she told 
the boy’s story almost as she had heard it some eight or 
nine years before. She was surprised to find how well 
she remembered it. 


CHAPTER V. 


ON THE MOUNTAINS. 


UNE, the gay harvest-queen of all the year, radiant 



^ with bloom from first to last, was gone, and July 
was racing after with its treacherous coolness, its fervid 
noons, its withering roses, and its browning meadows, 
before Leslie was really ofi* for the mountain resort of her 
mother’s choosing. 

The plan which had not pleased her at first, and to 
which she had given her consent with great reluctance, 
had become daily more attractive since the ceaseless 
round of gayety that enthralled her here nolens volens so 
tried and taxed her. 

It had taken longer than she thought to get up the 
“ few evening dresses ” Mrs. Hope had ordered for their 
brief summering on Maury Heights, and, meanwhile, 
the time had gone by in a sort of giddy whirl. 

She had tacitly promised, at least, to say nothing to 
her mother of the Christian hope she had so timidly 
claimed in the twilight talk with her father. It would 
not be long now, she told herself, until this proposed visit 
would be over and she back to the city, free to do just 
as she liked with her life. The days of her probation 
— the days when she must keep silent and be patient and 
do as her mother wished, would soon be gone. 


GO 


ox THE MOUNTAINS. 


61 


But, reason as she would, the gay bondage of her pres- 
ent life made her restless, eager for change, impatient for 
new schemes. What was it the days lacked ? Why was 
she, even in the midst of the dizzy round of pleasure, 
possessed by this spirit of unrest? Why was she never 
quite satisfied, at peace, happy ? It was only for a little 
while, and she was obeying her mother, doing all that 
she wished, and even what her father had advised and 
thought best. Was it not a plain duty to thus honor 
her father and mother? Could she not trust her young 
life to them a little longer ; to be patient, to live as they 
wished, to wait? Was not love itself patient, and the 
normal attitude of love to forbear with others; not 
restless, petulant, hasty, but calmly, gently biding one’s 
time, wearing meanwhile that priceless ornament of 
God’s own child — a meek and quiet spirit ? Did he not 
often bid one to work and another to wait? Was not 
waiting something harder to do than active working 
or — anything ? And then, there was another side. 
Ought she to forget that a network of temptation was 
sometimes the noblest school for the untried soul? God 
may mean her life of to-day to test her truth, her purpose, 
her sincerity. Was it not his will also that his followers 
keep in the midst of life, among men, trials, difficulties, 
and hindering obstacles ? Character gained in the cur- 
rent, developed in the storm of life. Some one had told 
her that at school. There was nobody to whisper that the 
immortal soul had no right to try the doubtful good 
of testing the sharpness of edged tools, a pastime as 


62 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


dangerous as it was ancient, but rather should be given to 
immortal things, life’s precious, everlasting gifts. There 
was nobody to suggest that she was filling her beautiful 
days with a feverish pursuit for that which when won 
would prove but a tinsel bauble ; was toying idly and 
lightly with the supreme good of life, which no sane 
mind would really give in exchange for a whole world like 
this ; nobody to say a single word of faithful warning ; and 
so Leslie began, as so many thousands have before her, 
to drift with the tide about her, much too strong ard bold 
for the waning strength with which she now opposed it. 
It could not matter much for just this little time, and 
the girl, young, intensely human, not in any sense supe- 
rior, began to do as all the rest did, greatly enjoying 
herself. To go out constantly, to wear the prettiest dresses 
possible, to have the world — even one’s own small world — 
looking on in undisguised admiration and applause, was 
certainly a pleasure, unalloyed and innocent. She had 
come at last to think that to sway the sceptre of beauty 
and belle, as her mother so ardently wished her to do, 
was after all a very pleasant thing. And yet, to occupy 
this lofty niche, it seemed to her she must enter the lists 
of some mad race, the goal of which none knew, nor 
cared. But there was something, even in this full cup, 
that brought a vague distrust, a deep disquietude of soul. 
What was it she longed for still ? Why did she almost 
hope the morrow might bring what she had missed in to- 
day ? Why did not giving serious thoughts to the winds and 
being as gay as a butterfly make her happy, like the rest ? 


ON THE MOUNTAINS. 


63 


Such thoughts were new and perplexing. Indeed, there 
was much to make Leslie’s smile wistful as she went her 
way these glad summer days and lustrous nights, feeding 
her young heart and soothing its strange unrest on the 
excitement of the hour. For she had begun to shrink 
from solitude. She was afraid of the reflections that met 
her there. She avoided all solution of puzzling problems. 
She feared, yet longed to know the meaning of that 
restless disquiet that burdened her heart and made her at 
times — so lately the happiest of girls — almost miserable. 

The solution would come of itself some day. The poor, 
ill-advised, mistaken child would know all in time. Fate 
itself stays for opportunity. 

Leslie was glad indeed when the day came to leave the 
heat and dust of the city behind. She was far more 
anxious now than Mrs. Hope to be off, to reach those cool, 
green heights, the final uplands of the world. 

“You are a strange girl, Leslie,” said her mother, as 
they steamed across the level prairie country to the foot- 
hills beyond; “the very strangest girl I ever knew! 
When I planned this stay on Maury Heights for you, 
everybody was beginning to call you ‘ a little nun,’ ‘ a fair 
fanatic,’ ‘ a pious recluse,’ and other names as little to my 
taste, when they had reference to my own daughter. But 
since that time, you have come out wonderfully; you 
have really pleased me very well! It is now almost 
unnecessary to try the effect of a gay resort like this, since 
you seem already quite cured of that religious fanaticism 
you learned at school. But stiU, a great deal depends 


64 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


upon your success at Maury Heights. Some of our best 
society people from the city are there, or will be soon, 
and as you may have heard, a girl’s first season decides 
everything. You can have all Ashland at your feet when 
we go back, if you only play your part well up here, 
holding your own even with the best ; a thing you are 
entirely capable of doing, with a few hints, a little help, 
from me. And I have certain reasons for thinking our 
old town will be gayer this next winter than it has been 
since its festive capital days ; a sort of revival of those 
brilliant Mardi Gras times, well remembered by our older 
citizens. And on the whole, considering everything, I do 
not regret this visit* of ours, if only for the effect it will 
have when we go back — go back to take up life in our 
own fashion.” 

Leslie started and gave a quick glance at her mother’s 
face. Some earnest disclaimer of such a future, and such 
plans as these leaped to her parted lips. What she really 
longed to do was to cry out in the weary pain of her 
conscience-smitten heart that when they went back she 
truly meant to take up life in her own fashion, but an 
altogether different fashion ! She longed to confess what 
the past few weeks of living in pleasure had taught her, 
and how the happiness and enjoyment were so mixed and 
mingled with regretful pangs and unsatisfied desire, that 
she could only call her feelings “ bitter sweet,” but this 
was not the time to speak, and she lacked besides the 
courage of her convictions. Perhaps she was mistaken 
too ! The spark of faith and love, enkindled lately in 


ON THE MOUNTAINS. 


65 


her youthful breast, burned so dimly, so faintly now, 
she could scarcely be sure it was there at all. And 
yet 

“ And so, I am glad indeed, child,” went on Mrs. 
Hope, struggling with a yawn, and paying no heed to 
Leslie’s troubled eyes and trembling lips, “ that you have 
seen lit to alter the strange views you brought home from 
that school, and have now begun your young-lady life on 
a different basis. You doubtless see what kind of a world 
you live in and what demands it makes of pretty young 
girls like yourself. There is a time for all things, as 
the Bible says, and when is the time to laugh, dance, and 
be merry, if not in youth ? But I would not have you 
think for a moment that I object to religion, Leslie. You 
wrong me deeply if you do. It is natural, fitting, and 
all that, for a woman of my years. The world itself ex- 
pects that, and it is certainly my wish that you should 
be an earnest Christian, when you are a little older. Far 
be it from me to desire my child — any of my children — 
to go on to old age destitute of the stay and comforts of 
religion. It is only now, in your fresh youth and good 
looks, that I want you to have a little gay life, a taste of 
worldly pleasure. The other will come in time. And, 
just for the present, you know, I am glad to see you cured 
of those strait-laced Puritan ideas which I thought at 
first would spoil everything; glad to see society has you 
in its chains and holds you fast, a happy, willing, little 
prisoner.” 

Mrs. Hope said no more, but turned her satisfied face 
E 


66 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


toward the car window opposite, and soon appeared 
absorbed by the fleeing landscape. 

And Leslie said nothing — not a word ! But she sighed 
heavily. She was not subdued ; not ready to yield 
allegiance to such plans, nor to heed altogether the little 
hoard of maxims the mother used in preaching down 
a daughter’s heart; but she was perplexed, sadly and 
sorely perplexed. She longed to pour out her troubled 
thoughts in a sympathetic as well as a listening ear, but 
not to her mother could she go. She saw only discord, 
alienation, and controversy before her should she even 
attempt to solve the problem of her future in the way 
she knew to-be right. And from these she turned away 
in weariness of soul. The gay young heart that used to 
beat so lightly felt the weight of a new, strange burden. 
‘^Bonnie Leslie” even fancied it part of some bright 
dream of the past that she had once been happy ! 

Maury Heights offered to pleasure seekers some de- 
cidedly unique attractions, and a larger crowd had 
gathered on its airy summit than most of the well-estab- 
lished and far more accessible watering places in the 
South could boast of. The principal hotel, the “ Meteor,” 
was beautiful for situation, looking down from a lofty 
plateau on wild ravine and flowery gorge. Its approach, 
the steep, irregular trail through glen and chasm, was 
striking and picturesque ; its architecture grand and im- 
posing. Unlike most of the public buildings that had 
sprung up like mushrooms here and there, the “ Meteor ” 
had been erected with an eye to effect, and the result was 


ON THE MOUNTAINS. 


67 


such noble proportions, such a superb, harmonious whole, 
that the looker-on often compared the grand new hotel to 
“ frozen music.” 

It afforded, moreover, all the improvements and luxu- 
ries that summer guests of these latter days demand ; was 
as luxurious in the appointments of its stately parlors and 
dainty bedrooms as the exterior was beautiful. Yet, 
Leslie’s first sensation on reaching the station at tlie 
summit was one of disappointment. Seen from this rail- 
way terminus, the Heights, of which she had formed her 
own ideal, were obscured entirely by the electric lights of 
the brilliantly illumined hotel, which seemed to glare 
down upon her, argus-eyed, from its daring perch. As she 
drew nearer, its noise and bustle, tread of many feet, sound 
of many voices, smote jarringly upon her ear. Where 
were the restful, lovely, “ windswept spaces of silence ” her 
fancy had idly promised ? She could see nothing but the 
grounds about the “ Meteor,” dull and artificial, like the 
closely shaven city parks with their placards of “ keep 
off,” and a pavilion or two for the band, gay with tawdry 
bunting and flaring tri-colored lights. 

The doors and windows, thrown wide open to the 
summer night, were full of people, who listlessly or curi- 
ously scanned the faces of the new arrivals, of which 
there seemed to Leslie a great throng. 

The ballroom on the left, a grand hall in white and 
gold decorations, showed a mass of whirling figures for 
whom the musicians outside played with a will. 

Her mother had called the mountain resort “a gay 


68 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


watering place,” and so Leslie was rather unreasonable 
in her disappointment. She had no right to expect a 
quiet realm of God’s green splendor, the romance 
and beauty of peak and gorge undisturbed by man’s 
thirst for wealth and speculation. And yet her restless 
spirit longed for such scenes upon this lofty summit, and 
her first impressions were so far from pleasing she could 
scarcely reply to Mrs. Hope’s congratulatory raptures 
without betraying a certain feverish impatience. 

“ There are sure to be charming people in a great crowd 
like this,” she said, consolingly, when the two had been 
left together in one of the several hundred apartments, a 
pleasant little bedroom with wundow^s opening eastward ; 
‘‘ and everything is, as a matter of course, first-class in 
such a hotel as the Meteor.” I think we are fortunate 
indeed in securing such accommodations. I wonder you 
are not better pleased, Leslie ! ” 

“ Perhaps I may be in the morning, mother. Things 
always appear brighter by daylight. But I am tired out 
to-night. I cannot bear even to think of that surging, 
restless, noisy crowd we saw below. And, oh, such a 
giddy whirl of dancing ! Do listen ; I am sure I shall 
never sleep wuth this din in my ears ! Do you think there 
is any quiet spot up here, mother ? If so, I mean to try 
to find it to-morrow. Oh, I am so tired ! All I lon^ to 
do just now, at least, is to rest ! ” 

“ But you will feel altogether differently by morning, 
child,” said Mrs. Hope, surveying the girl’s pale cheeks 
and languid figure with maternal solicitude. “ A good 


ox THE MOUNTAINS. 


69 


night’s rest is all you need, and I don’t wonder you are 
tired, for I am that worn out myself I fancy I could sleep 
were the noise even more deafening than that we hear at 
this moment. So get to bed right away — you’ll need 
those double blankets before morning — and go to sleep, 
child. You’ll wake as bright and gay as a skylark, I’ll 
warrant, about the time the sun rises and sets the valley 
on fire, — a curious sight I am told, and one well worth 
getting up to see. Perhaps you’ll go yourself some fine 
morning while we are here and take a look. But all in 
good time. How inviting that bed looks, Leslie, and the 
sheets are so fine and white, smelling of rose-leaves, 
rosemary, or something delicious! Are you quite com- 
fortable, dear ; sure there is no draught at your head ? 
"Well, good-night 1 ” 

It was hours after before Leslie really fell asleep in the 
sound, healthful fashion of tired youth, and yet just as the 
faintest roseflush crept along the curled edges of the gray 
clouds in the east, she was up and dressing noiselessly. 
The strange elixir of the wonderful atmosphere set her 
pulses going and her heart beating in a new and delightful 
way. She threw ofi* the languor of sleep as one does a 
mantle, and was off at a bound to see for her own delight, 
on this first morning above the world so high, the 
miracle of the sunrise from Maury Heights. 

Although it was a summer dawn, the airs that swept 
across these rugged peaks were sharp and chill. From 
the shaggy sides of the precipice — yet rather shadowy — 
silvery mists were rising. The heavy dew on the masses 


70 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


of mountain laurel on either side of her path glittered 
like jewels. 

Leslie looked about her with a deeper pang of truer 
joy than she had known for weeks. While she could 
not be called a sentimental girl, being altogether too 
healthy, heart-whole, and practical to deserve such a 
title, she knew of old the restful charm of being alone 
with nature and her God. Such moments of solitude had 
ever been welcomed to her young soul as a time of self- 
communion. Only of late she had shrunk from intro- 
spection, turned feverishly away from solitary reverie or 
musings, as if afraid of her own thoughts But this 
morning she was more like the “ Bonnie Leslie ” of her 
school days, looking about her with the frank, sweet eyes 
of old, almost flying along the wild curve that led to the 
eastern blulf, her thoughts, like her face, full of innocent 
happiness. The world was so lovely, and this hour in 
the pale dawning so still and fair ! 

A crown of sapphire lay upon the far-off peaks, coldly 
defined on the eastern sky. A light fleecy cloud of vapor, 
white as winter snows, hung over the river that flashed its 
silver length through the sleeping valley, and now began 
to lift and break into billowy masses of turquoise and 
amber, wreathing about the glens and grottoes far below, 
and lingering like a “ witch charm ” over the brightening 
horizon. 

A moment more, and there was a sudden radiant burst 
of splendor, the gleaming of many gems, waves of cloud 
parting in a sea of gold, a rush of flame to the distant 


ON THE MOUNTAINS. 


71 


mountain tops. The sun had risen ! Thus did its light 
break on the world at Maury Heights. 

Never had Leslie felt so poor and small a part of it 
before ; never had her yearnings toward the Infinite been 
so holy, so intense as now. She worshiped in her very 
soul the living God in spirit and in truth — nearer to him 
with all her being than she had been since the moment 
in which she had yielded up her heart into his keeping 
for time and eternity ! 

“Mother was mistaken when she said we would be 
denied all religious privileges up here,” she said to her- 
self, still gazing on the wondrous spectacle, her eyes full 
of emotion. “ But it was only her way of speaking. She 
too, will feel how much nearer God is to her here than at 
Ashland, when once she stands here alone and sees what 
I have seen ! There is no describing it, no putting into 
words the glory of the sunrise. How could I have felt so 
dissatisfied, so homesick last night ! But everything is 
changed — different — this morning. Oh, I am so glad we 
came to Maury Heights ! Only I wish we might live in 
an open tent out here, and sleep on a bed of birch boughs 
and balsam, and leave the ‘ Meteor ’ to other people.” 

Leslie had taken a little too much for granted in 
regard to the wide solitude about her. She fancied her- 
self so entirely alone that these last words were spoken 
aloud in a tone of energetic emphasis. 

A light, silvery, even familiar, laugh rang out on the 
lovely stillness. She looked on either side with a startled 
air. Who could it be, and — where ? 


72 


A THEEAD OF GOLD. 


“ Good-morning ! ” cried a merry voice from a depth 
of green, a sort of fairy bower poised on the head of a 
water-chiselled chasm, through which a stream toiled down 
with hoarse murmurings : “ Why, Leslie Hope, you don’t 
mean to say you have forgotten your old chum, Helen 
Montgomery ? 


CHAPTER VI. 


HELEN. 

6 6 TJELEN MONTGOMERY ! ” echoed Leslie, in 
J— L a dismayed tone, looking straight into the 
changed, wasted, but still exquisite face before her. 

“Well, yes! I am the melancholy remains of that 
unfortunate personage, to say the least,” went on the 
gay, mocking voice, “ and I do not wonder that you are 
shocked, child; so do not try to explain or apologize. 
Ah, Leslie Hope, your eyes were always deep wells of 
truth — the clear, sweet, lighted windows of your soul. 
One could ever read your inmost thoughts there. How 
well you are looldng too, child. But come, Leslie, and 
have a seat on this rock. I was sitting just here when 
you passed by, and I would have spoken then, for I knew 
you in a moment, but your eyes were fixed on the sky 
with such a look of reverence and awe, I was half afraid 
to utter a word, lest I should break some charm. You 
used to be such a queer, original, thoughtful child, not a 
bit like the rest of us. Have you forgotten the old days? 
No? But let us talk of the present first. Isn’t this a 
charming little nook ? I come here every morning when 
I am well enough.” She stopped to cough, putting her 
slight hand to her lips for a moment, and rattled on 
lightly : 


73 


74 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


“ When did you come, Leslie? Are you staying at 
the ‘Meteor’? That’s the swell hotel, you know, of 
the country ; pretends to be able to entertain some three 
or four thousand guests. Well, it is splendid, and this 
is an ideal summer resort, as they style it ; gay is not 
the word to describe it. I used to think those foreign 
watering places, wLere we stayed sometimes, were grand 
and had a great deal of life, but give me Maury Heights 
and the ‘Meteor’ for real enjoyment. I never danced so 
much before, and the music is delicious. Mamma had 
to telegraph ray dressmaker for two more ball dresses, 
right away, for I had worn my others so much that they 
had become common. Now, dear, begin. Don’t leave 
out a word; tell me everything you know; it doesn’t 
tire you to talk.” 

But Leslie was too deeply pained at the inroads ill- 
health had made on her friend’s beautiful face to talk 
naturally in the light, girlish strain Helen evidently ex- 
pected. She could scarcely do more than gaze into those 
large, violet eyes with solicitude and tenderness, longing 
to know, yet hardly daring to ask, what had so changed 
her. 

Helen Montgomery lived in Ashland, the only child 
of wealthy parents, and had been at one time, Leslie’s 
very dearest girl friend. But it had been years now 
since they had even met. Miss Montgomery had finished 
her education at one of the most fashionable and expen- 
sive select schools in the North, and immediately after- 
ward had gone abroad with her father and mother, to see 


HELEN. 


75 


everything worth seeing in the Old World. They had 
returned to the family mansion in Ashland only on one 
occasion, and Leslie was at that time away at school. 
There had never been, even in those early, youthful 
days, any marked congeniality between the two girls. 

Helen grew up haughty and handsome, proud of the 
blue blood in her delicate veins, and carrying her head 
as a young princess might, devoted to society, absorbed 
by fashion, a girl diifering in every respect from her 
pretty young confidante, Leslie Hope. It was one of 
the many friendships which are merely the result of 
accident, or the incidents of childhood, and yet their at- 
tachment, founded more on the fact that they lived in 
adjoining homes and attended the same school in the 
careless, sunny days of youth, than on any particular 
traits of character, remained sincere, steadfast, and affec- 
tionate. It had even survived the years of a wide sepa- 
ration, and this sudden, unlooked-for meeting had given 
them both great pleasure. 

Miss Montgomery was quick to translate Leslie’s sor- 
rowful glance. 

“You see, of course, that I have lost my looks, 
dearest,” she began, lightly, her eyes turned away, as if 
taking in the warmth and light of the summer landscape ; 
“ but you don’t know how rapidly I’ve gained in strength, 
and in flesh too, since we came here, a month ago. 
Mamma is sure I will be almost as well as ever by the 
night of the grand costume ball, the great event of the 
season, by the way, Leslie. And you must let me help 


76 


A. THKEAD OF GOLD. 


you decide on what you will wear. Mine is already 
planned, and as lovely as a — a dream. My dressmaker 
is perfect when it comes to a costume. No one can excel 
her. But as I was saying, I have only to keep on gain- 
ing to be my ownself in a very short time. You' know 
I was always rather slight, not to say thin, even when a 
child. But you can see what a color I’ve got. No one, 
an mamma says, could be really ill with such cheeks as 
mine. I think it would be dreadful to be thin and pale 
both, don’t you ? ” 

“ How long have you been like — like this ? ” stammered 
Leslie, too grieved and anxious to choose her words more 
carefully. 

Helen’s laugh rang out mirthfully, awaking shrill 
echoes down in the rocky ravine at her feet. 

“ What an artless, truth-loving little thing you are, and 
— used to be. I remember you so well, the Puritan 
strain in your blood, which I never had, and all. It 
always seemed such a bother, such a stupid, dry-as-dust 
thing, this being religious. I never had even the smallest 
fancy in that way but once.” 

When was that, Helen.” 

“ Why, it was some three years ago now, and we were 
back at Ashland, on one of our flying trips. There was 
a meeting of some kind, ^ protracted,’ I think they called 
it, going on at the Garrison Street Church, your church, 
isn’t it ? and they had some one preaching, there every 
night whom I had met before and liked. I can’t imagine 
now how it happened, but Leslie, I did really long to 


HELEN. 


77 


be good, to become a Christian in the way he said — 
but ” 

She stopped, blushing vividly. 

“In the way the minister said, I mean,” she. went on, 
“this Mr. Bertram, whom I had met abroad. But as 
soon as mamma knew that he was there, she forbade my 
entering the church again. She did more. She took me 
away the next day. I never cared again about religion ; 
if my parents looked at it in that way, I felt that it 
could not be, as I had fancied, of supreme importance. 
And I never saw the minister again until I came here. 
Oh, Leslie, what would mamma say, or not say, if she 
knew it? You see, she imagines because he is poor and 
once — once liked me, that it is far better for us never to 
meet. She has set her heart on my marrying rank and 
fortune equal to my own. It frightens her to think of 
anything else. So I have never breathed to her that 
Mr. Bertram is at Maury Heights. Why should I? 
She would only take me away, and he is the very noblest 
of men, the very soul of honor. He knows too, for I 
told him that I am going to be married to Mr. Leighton.” 

“ Mr. Horace Leighton, of Ashland ! ” exclaimed 
Leslie, shocked at her friend’s revelations. “ Oh, Helen ! 
Is it really true ? Is everything quite settled ? ” 

Miss Montgomery nodded in a wise, airy little fashion. 
She was not blushing now; her cheeks had rather lost 
instead the color of which she had ,boasted. She pointed 
significantly to a splendid solitaire flashing on her thin 
hand. 


78 


A THEEAD OF GOLD. 


He is coming up in a few days, to be present at the 
costume ball, and will stay a little while afterward, if he 
does not conclude to go with a party to the wilderness 
beyond, for a bit of hunting. It is not quite decided yet, 
but there will be a lot of other new people here about 
that date, so it will not matter much.” 

“ Oh, Helen ! ” It was all Leslie could put in words, 
but the cry came from the depths of her gentle, unso- 
phisticated heart. There was a change in Helen Mont- 
gomery that surprised and pained her even more than the 
hectic loveliness of her altered face. 

“Well, if that is all you are going to say; if you con- 
gratulate me only by a series of ‘Oh, Helen,’ we might 
just as well go back to the hotel,” said the young lady, 
laughing, and shaking out her skirts ; “ your mother will 
be in an agony for fear you have fallen over the prec- 
ipice, and I shall be asked to explain my sudden pen- 
chant for early rising.” 

And so the two girls strolled along the winding path 
together, breathing the balmy, sweet-scented air, and 
bathed by the morning sunshine. 

“ I am so glad we came up here to this lovely ‘ Land 
of the Sky,’ where everything is so beautiful,” said 
Helen, breaking the silence that had fallen between 
them, and looking about her with a wistful little smile. 
“ The doctors said anywhere I happened to like would be 
best for me to go, — so accommodating of them, — and I 
would name but one place, Maury Hciglits.” 

“ Have you been here before ? ” asked Leslie, in surprise. 


HELEN. 


79 


Oh, no ! But Mr. Bertram has ; years ago, when 
even the sites of the great hotels, the ‘ Garden of the 
gods,’ and the railway station were little better than a 
wilderness. He told me that it resembled strongly the 
place where I first met him, among the Alpine Mount- 
ains, and oh, I remembered that grand far-away height 
so well ! It seemed — the days we spent there — like a bit 
of heaven. Oh, Leslie, dear ” 

She stopped speaking, and turned her face quite away. 
There were tears in her beautiful eyes. 

“But you must not suppose, — must not think for a 
moment,” she went on, in an altered voice, “that I came, 
knowing Mr. Bertram was here. I did not dream of 
such a possibility. Our meeting was utterly unlooked 
fur; just as little desired by him as by me; one of those 
strange accidents of this strange life. And it is great 
fun, you know,” she said, laughingly and flusliing, “ that 
though he is here, and I see him every day, mamma does 
not dream of it. Well, Horace knows, at least; and, as 
he is the one most concerned, the one to be consulted, after 
all, why should I mind mamma, and her queer, unrea- 
sonable fancies ? Why, indeed?” 

But Leslie returned no answer. She only sighed from 
the depths of her mournful reverie, in which she had lost 
herself so entirely that Helen’s rambling talk sounded 
like part of a broken, unreal dreanu 

Mrs. Hope spent the first few days in getting settled in 
her luxurious apartments at the “ Meteor,” and making 


80 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


the acquaintance of the best people ; not only there, but 
at one or two of the other first-class hotels scattered upon 
the summit. And Leslie was left a good deal to her own 
pursuits ; to spend the perfect days just as her sweet will 
suggested ; a rare and delightful privilege, which she was 
inclined to make the most of. For the city girl keenly 
enjoyed the wild scenery of peak and gorge, the grand 
panorama of woods spread out at her feet. There was 
something in the vast splendor of these lofty heights that 
appealed to her noblest thoughts; and when once the 
region which man had dared appropriate, to disturb and 
change at his pleasure, had been left far behind, the girl 
was thrilled to her very soul by the mystery and isolation 
which hovered around her in those wide solitudes. 

Her cheeks were wild roses, indeed ; and her eyes like 
light, on these glad, free days of idle roaming ; and the 
mother began to take a certain comfort in the child’s 
bright looks.” 

‘‘ Why, she is going to be a real beauty, after all,” she 
told herself, with a new thrill of pride, as Leslie came 
flying in on one particular afternoon, full of the delights 
of some proposed excursion by moonlight to Arrow Falls, 
her cheeks glowing with exquisite color; “a real, out- 
and-out beauty, and I had fancied she meant to stop at 
the point of mere prettiness. Why, even Helen Mont- 
gomery, in her young prime, was not to be compared to 
Leslie now. Poor Helen ! It is certainly very unbecom- 
ing to be in delicate health to some people, though she is 
a stately, handsome creature still, and gaining every day. 


HELEN. 


81 


as I can see. I wonder her mother seems so anxious. 
But, — I must consult with Leslie about her dress for the 
ball, and there is no better time than now. We see so 
little of each other, it seems to me, and yet — what is to 
be expected in a great crowd like this, and everybody so 
cordial and attentive ? I did a good thing for the child 
when I came to Maury Heights ; even she acknowledges 
that, and — it may be — not Helen, after all, who is chosen 
to lead the grand march to-morrow night. If I am not 
mistaken, Leslie has had her full share of popularity, 
and it would not surprise me if — Well, stranger things 
than that have happened. Indeed, it is the unexpected 
that does happen.” 

But Leslie did not care to discuss balls, costumes, or 
who should lead in the grand march. She was overflow- 
ing with interest in a charming scheme of a very differ- 
ent nature. The moonlight excursion to that beautiful 
torrent of falling waters, proposed by a number of old 
and young, and fixed upon for to-morrow night, was the 
plan for which she longed to obtain Mrs. Hope’s approval 
and consent. 

“ What can you be thinking of, Leslie ? ” began the 
startled mother, gazing at her in unfeigned astonishment. 
“ Do you really mean that you prefer that jaunt over 
rocks and ravines to the falls in such a crowd as you 
have mentioned, to being present at the ball, the greatest 
event of the season, to-morrow night ? ” 

Oh, mother, I don’t care much about balls, and — 
that’s the truth. I get so tired of the crowds, the heated 
F 


82 


A THREAD OP GOLD. 


rooms, the smell of the gas and flowers. And dancing 
wears me out so. I wished before w^e left home that there 
would be nothing of the sort up here. Do, mother, let 
me be happy in my own way, if only for this one time. 
Say you do not mind, and let me go to this lovely, ro- 
mantic spot which, seen in the white light of a full moon, 
has such wonderful beauty.” 

Mrs. Hope looked at her still, and even more wohder- 
ingly, almost angrily. She had never quite understood 
the child ; it being more difficult for a woman of worldly 
thoughts and plans like herself to understand the abso- 
lute simplicity of Leslie’s character, than for the simple 
and ingenuous to comprehend worldliness and scheming. 

“ You cannot be in your right senses, I think,” she 
said, sternly, “ to presume upon my indulgence by even 
naming such a crazy, vulgar thing as this — this excursion 
appears to me. Do not forget yourself so far as to men- 
tion it again in my presence ; and, as a matter of course, 
you will go to the costume ball.” 

“ But, mother, I can enjoy myself, I really can, very 
much, without dancing. You will not care if I am a 
mere looker-on for this once.” 

“ What can you mean, Leslie? ” asked the tried mother, 
on the verge of tears. “ And your lovely blue and silver 
dress, with all that wonderful hand embroidery to give it 
such an air of costly elegance. And the turquoise neck- 
lace and expensive bracelets ordered, regardless of price, 
for this occasion. How can you be so utterly indifferent 
to my wishes, Leslie ? Why is it that you are not more 


HELEN. 


83 


like Helen Montgomery, who can dance the whole night 
long?” 

“ I don’t know, mother dear, unless it is that Helen 
loves dancing, and I do not.” 

“ The idea of a young girl not loving to dance is, in 
itself, a mystery,” went on Mrs. Hope, thoroughly roused ; 
“ and I had thought you cured of your senseless fanati- 
cism. It is not as if, as I explained to you in Ashland, 
you were a church-member ; and even then you might do 
it, so far as most city churches are concerned. Not even 
Garrison Street Church calls its members to account now 
for a little harmless amusement like dancing. You see 
there is nothing in the way of your doing as other girls 
do, Helen Montgomery, for instance, except some puri- 
tanical fancies gotten into your mind ; how, I do not 
know, unless at that school which I often wish now had 
never been heard of. But a word to the point in regard 
to this ball, Leslie. You are to go as ‘ A fair morning in 
summer,’ or in any other character that harmonizes with 
your dress, and you are to refuse no engagements until 
your tablets are full. Helen will doubtless open the ball, 
but that is no reason why you should not be the belle of 
the evening. Do you understand me, Leslie ? ” 

“ Yes, mother,” she answered, very sweetly, all the 
brightness gone from her young face, a far-away look in 
her dark eyes ; “ I will do my best to please you. Per- 
haps that is my first duty, after all. Listen to the wind 
soughing in the pines outside, mother. Isn’t it an eerie 
sound, a weird sort of melody, don’t you think ? I am 


84 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


SO tired this afternoon. I believe I’ll go to my room and 
go to sleep. Don’t call me till tea-time, mother.” 

Very well,” said Mrs. Hope, kindly. “ Go in and 
get a good, long rest. By the way, child, did you know 
Mr. Mather, the millionaire’s son, who was so attentive 
to you during commencement week, was coming to-mor- 
row with Horace Leighton to spend some days at Maury 
Heights?” 

“ Yes, mother ; I knew. Helen told me.” 

“ There must be some special attraction up here for 
him. Well, he is worth a dozen of such young men as 
Mr. Leighton.” 

“ Mr. Leighton has certainly a ‘ special attraction,’ but 
I do not think Mr. Mather knows any one up here ex- 
cept us,” said Leslie, innocently ; “ he has never met 
Helen, you know, since his coming to Ashland. Poor 
Helen ! Mother, do you think she has ever been told 
about — about Mr. Leighton’s fondness for drink?” 

“ Perhaps not, child,” said Mrs. Hope, hesitatingly ; 
“ but he is sure to change ; to reform when once married 
to her. Helen is going to do very well ; a fortunate 
thing too, for it is whispered that affairs are not prosper- 
ous of late with the house that Colonel Montgomery rep- 
resents, and young Leighton is rich and generous. But 
Mr. Mather is the more thorough gentlemen of the two ; 
an only son ; the heir to an excellent name and a fine old 
estate in the Scottish Highlands. His wife will be al- 
most ‘ my lady,’ a person of rank and title. Are you 
listening, Leslie ? ” 


HELEN. 


85 


“ I’m afraid I was almost asleep for a second,” said the 
girl, laughing ; “so I will run away to my room at 
once.” 

And in a moment she was gone, leaving her mother 
with a wonder as to whether she would ever be able to 
bring her to conform to her own worldly ideas. 


CHAPTER VH. 


THE COSTUME BALL. 

I T was a night to be remembered. The lights of the 
“Meteor’’ shone like burning stars. The Chinese 
lamps on the lawn were of many colors : rose, amber, and 
emerald, chiefly, forming a fairy-like illumination. The 
flower-wreathed pavilion, reserved for the band, was fes- 
tooned by chains of roses. On every breeze of the summer 
night floated the music of the dance, softened by distance 
into dreamy, languorous strains. 

The ball room itself was not unlike some fabled hall in 
the Arabian Nights of our childhood days. It showed a 
background of rich color, formed by grouping tall palms 
and Cape jasmine, the rich bloom of cacti and pome- 
granate, tropic-like ferns and satin-smooth, velvet-dark 
magnolias. The crystal chandeliers, ablaze with light, 
were wreathed in pink and white laurel in perfect bloom. 

Beneath this glitter and glow the throng of dancers 
W'as whirling in circles changeful as the forms of a 
kaleidoscope, and scarcely less radiant in color. There 
were costumes of all ages, nations, characters of history, 
fiction, and fancy, meeting, mingling, making a bewil- 
dering array. 

There were no masks worn, and the crowd of mere 
lookers-on, among whom Leslie had pleaded to be, 
86 


THE COSTUME BALL. 


87 


amused themselves by guessing the names of the charac- 
ters represented by those who had appeared in costume. 
Not a difficult thing to do, for there was the usual 
number of gypsy girls, priests, knights, dames of high 
degree, abb^, fair Rosamonds, soldiers, nuns, kings 
and queens, and many more such romantic figures re- 
turned from the long-ago to mingle in the full life of the 
present. 

The costume ball was, as had been predicted for weeks 
before, a very brilliant alfair, and presented to all the 
charm and interest of novelty. Besides the array of 
strange disguises, the mystery of unknown character 
dresses, the sheen of brocades, the glitter of gems, the 
wealth of flowers, the entrancing music, the moonlit 
summer night — there were gatherea in this great hall the 
most beautiful women, the most noted men of whom the 
social life of the State could boast. These graceful, gra- 
cious, and courtly figures gave greater dignity, charm, and 
importance to the fete than an ordinary assemblage with 
twice as costly accessories could have done. Such an 
assemblage of cultured beauty, such full ranks of the very 
flower of Southern chivalry, was not likely to be seen 
twice in one season, even at the “ Meteor,” and on Maury 
Heights. 

The grand march was long since over, led by the hand- 
somest young pair in the room, and Helen Montgomery 
had been for the time, at least, the cynosure of all eyes. 
Horace Leighton, himself a knight of “ ye olden times,” 
clad in the lightest of armors, had whispered, as he led 


88 


A THREAD OF GOLD, 


her out to take their places, that her dress “ suited her 
style to perfection.” For Helen, as a “ Greek Sibyl,” in 
flowing white robe, a wreath of oak leaves, an oak bough 
in her hand, and dainty white sandals on her feet, was 
looking her loveliest. Murmurs of admiring homage 
followed her through the night. What grace, what spirit 
of motion, what classic features, and then that rich color, 
coming and going on the delicate oval of her cheek. 

But there was one who sat looking on this brilliant 
scene in silence, who knew the secret of that fateful hectic 
flush, who shuddered at the sound of the hollow little 
cough, and shrank away from the sight of the quickly 
drawn breath, who knew that the lovely dancer would 
soon dance no more. 

This one was Helen’s mother, who sat out the long 
hours of the fete with a fierce anguish in her breast. She 
had refused to believe this terrible thing before. But now 
she knew that Helen was dying. Her one child, her 
heart’s idol, the beautiful young soul she had fashioned 
for society, was soon to be claimed for eternity. And 
what would eternity be to her darling — this long, unreal- 
ized, uncomprehended, infinite future to which she was 
going? Was this, this ball room the place for the dying? 
Yet she could not tell her child the truth. She had tried 
more than once since she herself had known it. Somebody 
else must do this; somebody else tell her beautiful 
daughter and Horace Leighton’s promised wife, that she 
was dying, and bid her prepare to meet her God. 

But in the meantime she was suffering the agony of 


THE COSTUME BALL. 


89 


remorse, the bitterness of suspense and fear. There were 
times when she could not bear to look at Helen, as now, 
on this eventful night. It was dreadful to see her floating, 
here and there, in that filmy, white robe. It looked like 
a shroud. 

She who had divided the honors of the occasion with 
Miss Montgomery, who had been sought after by a dozen 
would-be partners at once, and had danced everything on 
the cards with a certain piquant grace and spirit, was a 
tall, young girl with tawny braids of hair and dark eyes, 
wearing a wonderful dress resembling the silver-gray and 
azure of a summer dawn. She had appeared among the 
costumed guests as “ a morning in summer,” a character 
that suited her as perfectly in its way as Helen’s Grecian 
robe did her more statuesque style. Mrs. Hope was more 
than satisfied with Leslie’s success; she was delighted. 
The child had made ‘ a charming hit,” as society chat 
would phrase it. Her girlish air, her unstudied grace, 
her almost infantile fairness, making her the observed of 
all observers, and hence the sensation of the evening. 

The mother, looking on with approving eyes, felt that 
there was no reason to regret the round sum Leslie’s father 
had paid for the shimmering gauze dress, with its fine and 
delicate embroideries in silver thread, that fitted so per- 
fectly the supple figure. She was glad now, and with ex- 
cellent reason, that she had urged the purchase of the 
turquoise necklace that adorned the fair throat it encircled, 
nor had she one pang to expend upon the costly brace- 
lets that clasped the slender wrists. A girl who could be 


90 


A THREAD OF GOI.D. 


the rage of such an assemblage as this deserved and 
would reward expenditure. She was better pleased with 
Leslie, on the whole, than she had ever been before. 

It was now growing late — long past midnight — and the 
gayety began to wane ; the freshness and glamour seemed 
gone from it all, and the company began to scatter. 
Mrs. Hope looked about the rooms, but saw nothing of 
Helen or Leslie. She doubted not that the former was 
tired and had gone away, but where could Leslie be? 
Mrs. Montgomery had some time since supported her 
daughter, half-fainting from fatigue, to their room and 
her couch, and sat by the couch on which at once Helen 
had sank, watching with remorseful anxiety the labored 
breathing, and praying — if such mute agony of regret, 
such wild appeals to heaven could be called prayer — for 
the child’s future. 

Once Helen opened her eyes and asked wearily why 
her mother did not go to bed, as it was so late. 

“ It is so late — almost morning now — that it is hardly 
worth one’s while to go. Besides, I don’t like to leave 
you, darling. I am afraid you danced too much — over- 
tired yourself. You might be ill, and — and need me.” 

“ Don’t be so stupid, mamma dear,” she said, panting ; 
it is only air that I want, and you could not give me 
me that. Go to bed right away and leave me alone. I 
can always get my breath better when I am — by myself. 
Kiss me good-night, mamma ; though, as you say, it is 
almost daylight now.” 


THE COSTUME BALL. 


91 


As for Leslie, whom Mrs. Hope seemed to recall for the 
first time with a suddeii uneasiness, remembering that she 
had been a little hoarse and feverish on the day previous, 
she was rather difficult to find. No one had seen her for 
an hour past, it seemed, either in the ball room or in the 
great marquee outside where the supper was served. 

The truth was, with the oft-time fatal carelessness of 
youth, Leslie had asked her last partner, Mr. Mather, 
as it happened, to take her out on the lawn for a breath 
of pure, cool air. She looked flushed and overheated, 
and he had proposed to guard against too sudden change 
and chill by securing a wrap from an alcove near by. 
But she had declined his thoughtful attention. Her face 
and hands felt on fire, she said. All she wished for 
was to leave the hot room and whirling dancers behind, 
and feel once more the cool, sweet touch of the mountain 
breeze. 

“ Ah, nothing is quite so restful, when one is tired, as 
the cool, free air,” she said, dreamily, lifting her burning 
face to the stars, shining down pure and cold from their 
blue depths. There is no music — not even the most de- 
licious of Weber’s dream- waltzes — so sweet to me as the 
plaintive minor of this wind in the pines, which I never 
heard before ; at least, upon a mountain top. Does it 
sound to you like the murmur of the sea, or a — a dirge 
for the dying or dead ? ” 

This fanciful, imaginative strain was not in the least 
like Leslie’s ordinary manner of conversation, and young 
Mather looked at her in surprise. She shivered like 


92 


A THKEAD OF GOLD. 


one in an ague too, though the air was still balmy and 
so/t. 

“ Do let me bring you a shawl, — cloak, — some kind of 
a wrap,” he pleaded, looking concerned ; but still she 
shook her head. 

They could' no longer hear the wind harp ” in the 
trees, for the band in the pavilion on their right was 
playing a shrill, wild melody with a strange minor, a sort 
of “ witch-dance,” which set the waltzers, still lingering in- 
side, half beside themselves. 

Leslie shuddered as she listened, but Mr. Mather was 
anxious indeed, to make the most of this unlooked-for in- 
terview, and win her attention to himself and to what he 
wished to say. So, back and forth, to and fro, they 
walked, until there was a warning brightness in the clear, 
eastern sky, 

When Leslie came to her mother’s room she was still 
shivering with cold. She was very pale too, and her 
dark eyes looked darker for the deep circles around them. 
The apartment had little, if any, of its cheerful day- 
time look. Chill and comfortless, there was nothing to 
invite or attract the weary girl. The mother herself was 
not there, and Leslie passed on to her own smaller bed- 
room. 

Mrs. Hope, wrapped in a heavy shawl, was dozing in 
an easy-chair near the window. Never since a little child 
had she so needed her mother. 

** Good gracious, child ! ” she cried, springing up at 
sight of Leslie’s bare throat and arms ; “ do you mean 


THE COSTUME BALL. 


93 


to take your death? How could you be so imprudent? 
The dawn is always so chilly up here, and you must have 
gone outside, or you would not be so blue with cold, even 
to your lips.” 

“ And I’m wretchedly tired too,” she said, fretfully, 
not at all in her usual gay, sweet way ; “ tired almost to 
death. What do you think, mother? Mr. Mather asked 
me to marry him ! Did you dream he ever meant to do 
that?” 

‘‘Yes, I knew he did; knew it from the first. Any- 
body could see he adored you before we left Ashland. 
I half hoped, — but, — what did you say to him, darling ? 
Tell me that.” 

Leslie stood gazing in her mother’s pleased, satisfied 
face with the most bewildered perplexity in her own. 

“ Why, don’t you know, mother ? What would I be 
likely to say ? Why, I had only to tell him the truth, 
of course. I said it could never be ; never ! That I 
expected to love the man I married, and I was sorry, 
very sorry, to seem unkind to him. Was that all right? 
You see I did not expect such a thing. I could only tell 
him the truth.” 

“ Leslie, Leslie ! Child, are you out of your senses — 
gone daft with all the excitement and tumult of the 
night? You do not know, you cannot understand ” 

“ Oh, mother, don’t let us talk about it any more. 
Only help me to bed. I feel as if I could sleep forever, 
and I really think I am going to be ill.” 

And she was ; so very ill there was no need of discuss- 


94 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


ing this subject any further; either then, or for many a 
day after. 

The chill of the night before, which had seemed then 
to go to her vitals and lasted for hours, was followed by 
symptoms so alarming that Mrs. Hope was in an agony 
of concern. By noon she had called in the best medical 
aid at hand, an eminent physician spending a few weeks 
ill his cottage on the heights, and had telegraphed to the 
child’s father. Whatever Mrs. Hope’s feelings and re- 
flections were, she was suffering such anguish of mind, 
enduring such heart-breaking fears, as she hung over 
Leslie’s couch and, looking into the wild eyes, listened 
to the strange muttering and incoherent ravings of fever, 
that Helen’s mother, watching over her dying child only 
a few doors away, was scarcely more to be pitied. 

And yet, these days spent in the hushed and darkened 
room where Helen lay since the night of the ball, shut 
away from the bustle of life and the glad light of the 
summer, became to poor Mrs. Montgomery so many days 
of judgment. It was hard to look back and see only the 
vanity of an empty religion, the ivreck of a paltry and 
corrupt ambition, a fruitless struggle against mortality ! 
It was harder still to look forward and see nothing but 
the “valley of the shadow of death,” and Helen’s grave. 

Ah, it was bitter to bear these pangs ! What keen re- 
gret for the things that were, that could not be undone ! 
What poignant memories of the “ might have been ” pur- 
sued her all the long, unhappy days ! For she knew full 
well that within the human soul is planted an instinct for 


THE COSTUME BALL. 


95 


life’s real duties and true purpose. She had herself 
warped this instinct in Helen’s young heart, if no more. 
She had used the intense mother-love in her own heart 
merely as a worldly power to undermine the noblest im- 
pulses, and perhaps to wreck at last the once pure soul 
of her child. 

Could she, who had forbidden her to seek religion, who 
had hurried her away from such serious thoughts about 
her soul, who had destroyed those solemn, youthful im- 
pressions only through some idle fear of Helen’s fancy 
for a poor minister, ever hope to be forgiven ? W as not 
her sin of the kind that sets an eternal barrier between 
the soul and an offended God ? 

But Helen was not to blame. It was she, the mother, 
her natural guide and adviser, who should spend her life- 
time in penance, in sackcloth and ashes, and at the 
last, meet the wrath of the just Judge. But for her, 
Helen might long since have come to her Saviour; and 
when it was time for the racked body to be clothed upon 
with immortality, she might have fallen asleep in him. 
But for her, all this might be. 

This was the heavy burden resting on Mrs. Montgom- 
ery’s heart, as she sat and watched the rapid slipping 
away of the young life. She had made a terrible mis- 
take, and the retribution which had come so surely and 
so swiftly, was only just. And yet, might there not be 
time even now for atonement? Could she not in this, 
the eleventh hour, point the marred young soul to the 
“ Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world? ” 


96 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


Poor, poor mother ! She did not dare speak a word 
like this to the child, who was dying before her eyes ; 
dying without a ray of hope. She could not bring her- 
self to whisper a warning. She dreaded what Helen 
would say. What would the child not say to such words 
on her lips. So she shuddered, and said nothing. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THE UNSPOKEN WARNING. 

rriHE cooler days and chilly nights of August had crept 
in on the beautiful summer. The “ Meteor ” was 
not crowded with guests now, and the other hotels were 
thinning. But the tide of gayety was not checked. It 
swept on much as before, though perhaps with less inten- 
sity than that which marked the costume ball and the 
masquerades. The two invalids were much missed and 
inquired after a dozen times a day. They were not dis- 
turbed by the confusion and tumult of hotel life, for the 
two mothers had instantly followed the eminent physi- 
cian’s advice and secured two pleasant cottages on the 
edge of a forest not far away, which happened to be 
empty, and to these Helen and Leslie had been carried in 
the first days of their illness. 

Of the two, Leslie had really seemed to be in the more 
actual danger, and the battle her strong young life had 
waged with the consuming fever had been hard indeed, 
the issue, at one time at least, appearing extremely doubt- 
ful. But youth and unweakened vigor were in her favor, 
to say nothing of God who keeps watch and ward over 
his own. 

Leslie felt in her heart of hearts during these long days 
of rather trying convalescence, that another battle had 
G 97 


98 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


been fought besides the one of life with death. There 
was a certain wonderful change in her mother, which the 
child recognized and understood, though she could not 
put it into words. For in Mrs. Hope’s eyes during these 
days of anxious watching, there was often something more 
than tears — a pathetic appeal for pardon ; and on her 
lips, at times, a tone which did not belong to the world, 
that sounded like a cry for forgiveness. Never before had 
her manner been so gentle and tender, and though not a 
word was spoken between them about that which they 
each remembered and felt so deeply, Leslie was quite sure 
her future would now belong to God and herself. 

Her old father had come to her side as fast as the 
fastest express could bring him, and she had been con- 
scious of his tears falling on her face ; had caught a few 
words of his pleading prayers, even when her weary brain 
understood little else and her young feet were almost 
crossing over the border land. 

He knew what she meant to do when she went back. 
But suppose she never went back. What if she had died 
up here, faithless to her vows, disobedient to her Saviour’s 
commands, fearing man rather than God, and playing 
with her life and its true meaning as with a worthless toy. 

Such thoughts as these came to her in the solemn still- 
ness of midnight, sternly refusing to go away. They 
haunted her mind, bewildered by the fever, until she 
could lie quiet no longer ; and so one night she timidly 
called her mother, who was sleeping on the sofa drawn 
near her sick bed. 


THE UNSPOKEN WARNING. 


99 


“ What is it darling? ” asked Mrs. Plope, at her side in 
an instant. “ Is anything the matter — are you suffering? ” 
“ Oh, no ! I am getting well, getting well fast. I only 
wanted to know that if I were going — to die, like poor 
Helen, you know, would you be sorry I had such ‘ fanati- 
cal ideas’; sorry I had not cared for society in the way 
you wished me to ? ” 

Her poor mother burst into tears. 

God forgive me ! ” she sobbed out. “ Oh, God for- 
give all the mad, wicked folly of my past thoughts and 
plans for you, darling ! Not for ten thousand worlds like 
this would I have you what Helen is this night. Oh, 
child, I have learned some fearful lessons of late. When 
I think of Helen, so lovely, so worldly, but so evidently 
dying, and of your sudden, terrible illness, which was all 
my fault, I feel as if I had been insane for years. You 
must help me to undo the past, Leslie. And, child, take 
up your life again without one thought of all my misera- 
ble talk about ‘society.’ Give your heart to your 
Saviour ; be a Christian, church-member, what you will. 
If God will forgive me for the past, I will oppose you 
never again. Are you satisfied, my darling ? ” 

The soft light coming from the full moon rested on 
Leslie’s peaceful face. She was smiling, though her eyes 
were full of tears. For an answer she clasped her feeble 
arms about her mother’s neck. The fond embrace said 
more than words. It was the symbol too, of a new life 
for both, a new understanding between them. 

She was so quiet after this that Mrs. Hope, who sat 


100 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


awhile longer by the bed, stroking gently her soft hair, 
fancied that she was sleeping. But Leslie was still wide 
awake. 

“ Mother,” she said, at last, “ I cannot help thinking of 
poor Helen. She does not dream that she is going to die. 
Ought not somebody to tell her ? ” 

“ I said as much to her mother, yesterday ; but she only 
replied that a word of that sort would kill her outright.” 

“ But I would not frighten her, mother. Could I not 
go in to see her a little while, to-morrow? ” 

Perhaps so, child. If not to-morrow, why, then, the 
day after.” 

But on the morrow Leslie was not so well. She was 
more feverish and languid than she had been since her 
convalescence, and the visit to the Montgomery cottage, 
although next door, was not to be thought of. Helen, on 
the contrary, seemed brighter and stronger than she had 
been for weeks. 

There was one who sometimes came to her sick room 
during this last illness, who ever received a gentle and 
winning welcome from Helen, and even from Mrs. Mont- 
gomery. It could not matter now if her beautiful daugh- 
ter talked to a poor minister, and she felt almost glad 
when she heard of Mr. Bertram’s presence on the Heights. 
Surely he still had a certain influence over Helen. It 
was he who years ago had talked about eternity to her 
and the value of an immortal soul. It was he who had 
almost persuaded her child to be a Christian. And so 
Mrs Montgomery was very kind in her manner toward 


THE UNSPOKEN WAENING. 


101 


the pale, young minister when he called at the cottage, 
and sometimes slipped away, leaving the two together. 

Never once had they spoken of the past, nor of that bit 
of heaven upon the Alpine heights, but he knew how he had 
lost the girl who ought to have been his wife. He knew 
too, to what influence she owed her present danger for 
time and eternity. And he knew she was hurrying swiftly 
to her grave, utterly unprepared to meet her God, and he 
could not let her go without a word of tender warning 
and heart-to-heart appeal. But Helen herself refused to 
let him speak ; turning mockingly away from these solemn 
words, laughing at his serious looks, she filled up the 
precious moments with a frivolous strain of idle chat, 
unworthy of even her gay young tongue. To tell the 
truth, Helen Montgomery was in an agony lest Mr. 
Bertram should suspect that she was not quite happy as 
Horace Leighton’s promised wife. For to him, of all the 
world, she had confessed how this engagement had been 
brought about, confessed it too, in her first sharp misery 
of disappointment. What had actually occurred was 
this: 

One day her mother came to her while they were at 
Ashland with an open letter in her hand, looking older 
by years than she had done the night before. 

“ Helen, my darling,” she began in a strangely altered 
voice ; ‘‘Your father is ruined, hopelessly ruined. Every 
dollar has been swept away by that last wild speculation 
of his partner. But for this, I think I should go mad. 
Mr. Horace Leighton makes, in this letter, the most gen- 


102 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


erous offer in the world. He places a half-million at 
your father s disposal, with the hope of getting our for- 
tune back. If the chance succeeds, all will go on as 
before. The world need never know. But he offers this 
on one condition, Helen. He asks your hand in return ; 
he wants you to be his wife.” 

And then the halcyon summer days flashed before 
her, those sweet, bright, perished days, when Mr. Ber- 
tram and she were among the Swiss mountains. How 
fair and lovely did they seem in this swift, terrified retro- 
spect, that showed to the poor girl her own heart ! She 
had promised the minister to be his wife. God help her ! 
But — there was only one thing to be done. The father 
must be saved from ruin ; the mother from want. Her 
own slight hand could pay the price. She ought to be 
glad. Mr. Bertram ought to be glad that she could do 
this. But he was not glad ; very stern, very wretched 
he looked instead, as Helen well remembered. She 
laughed gayly and airily herself, until he was gone 
away — gone forever, at her bidding. But it was a very 
white, miserable Helen who clung to her mother’s neck 
afterward, and whispered that she was ^‘willing, yes, 
quite willing.” 

And she was still playing a part before this man who 
had won her girlish love years before; and he who 
watched the decay of her bright life with anguish in his 
breast, saw through it all as he would the flimsiest pre- 
tense at disguise. Her nature was too pure and noble 
to a«lmit one thought that contained a faithless element 


THE UNSPOKEN WARNING. 


103 


to Horace and her plighted troth ; yet this gay, worldly- 
minded girl was not the high-souled Helen Montgomery 
he had known, with her longings for holy things, her 
thksting for the water of life. He saw with dismay the 
change wrought in her, with grief so stern it was almost 
anger. Yet Helen, who had obediently offered herself 
for her father’s ransom, had never allowed her heart to 
cry out in its loneliness and regret. Should she do so 
now and before him, of all others ? Perish the thought ! 

And so Helen would have no serious conversation 
with Mr. Bertram, nor would she allow him even to refer 
to her failing health. And, at such times when he 
would drop into the pretty, fantastic-looking room in the 
cottage which Helen called in airy deiision her parlor, 
the girl’s cheek would be so lovely with its flush, her 
eyes so full of exquisite brightness, he could have no 
heart to speak out his fateful warning. He would wait 
till to-morrow. 

And so the days had gone by, till Leslie’s “to-mor* 
row,” for which her plans had failed, was here. 

Helen had been very gay that morning. She said she 
was getting well at last. It was really wonderful how 
strong she felt, now that the heat was no longer oppress- 
ive. And she began to plan for her father’s visit, — as 
he wrote he might join them any day now, — and for the 
return of Mr. Leighton, who had pushed on to a camp 
in the wilderness for a week’s sport with some of his 
club, who were roughing it out there for a time. 

“ I am so glad my new dresses have come, mamma,” 


104 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


she said, as they were discussing these arrivals ; “ they 
are very becoming to me too ; don’t you think so ? I 
am going to be very gay in a little while, and some 
charming people are expected at the hotels. There is to 
be another grand ball given soon, and who knows but 
Horace and I shall lead again. Did I do it well the 
last time, mamma ? ” 

“You looked perfectly lovely, darling. Everybody 
declared your step the very ‘ poetry of motion.’ ” 

She was silent then, gazing out on the soft, breeze- 
swept landscape. 

“ Will Mr. Bertram stay up here much longer, do you 
think, mamma ? ” 

It was the first time she had spoken his name of her 
own accord since that unforgotten day when Horace 
Leighton had offered to save the toppling Montgomery 
fortunes in exchange for her plighted troth. 

“I do not know, Helen. Would you like him to stay? 
I do not mind him now, dear. Forget that I ever did.” 

“ He did not use to think as you do about young girls 
being religious,” she went on, lightly. “ He says I was 
right in the way I felt when I went to hear him preach, 
at that meeting in Ashland, you know ; not that I ever 
told him that you opposed me, mamma.” 

“Listen, my Helen! You did not, I fear, quite catch 
my ideas then in regard to religion. I only thought it 
well for a handsome, popular girl, who had just made 
her debut, to see a little of the world and those fashion- 
able amusements frowned upon, and rightly enough too. 


THE UNSPOKEN WARNING. 


105 


by our churches. I did not wish you to put off a duty 
so important long, but only for a while. Just at that time, 
you know, I was ambitious for you, Helen, You were 
very beautiful then ; but I have greatly changed my views 
of late. I would not oppose you in anything of that 
kind now ; indeed, I wish from my soul that I had never 
done so. I have been wanting to talk to you, my darling, 
about ” 

But Helen threw up her wasted hands with a tragic 
gesture. 

“Oh, mamma dear! I do so hate such prosing; I 
can’t bear to have people say they are going ‘ to talk ’ to 
me. I always know beforehand, then, that it is going 
to be very stupid. Let us think of something different 
and pleasant, the dress I shall wear to the August ball, 
for instance. What do you think of that old rose with 
the Chantilly lace flounces, that I wore to the Grandison 
House the night I met Horace and ” 

“ Came home in a chill, which ended in a long spell of 
pneumonia,” sighed the mother. “ I can’t think how you 
came to be so careless ; I never was. The idea of stand- 
ing half an hour with your bare neck and no sleeves, in 
that open hall, a draughty death-trap of a place. That 
was the beginning of all your illness, Helen.” 

“ But where else was I to stand, mamma ? ” asked the 
girl, smiling from her pillows. “You see there was a 
perfect crush, and I asked Horace to take me where it 
was a little cooler. Once in the hall we could get no 
farther for the crowd. Nobody was to blame.” 


106 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


Mrs. Montgomery had no heart to answer these light 
words, and Helen went on : 

“And perhaps I was justly punished too, for the hop 
was given on the evening of the prayer meeting in that 
church where Mr. Bertram had been preaching so many 
nights, and some of the young members came to me that 
afternoon, begging that I would go there instead. How 
well I remember it all, even to my being inclined to go 
to the meeting. But, of course, I went to the hop. I 
was rather silly over church-going just then, though; 
wasn’t I, mamma? ” 

“ No, not silly, dearest child.” 

“Well, you said so, at the time. And now, mamma, 
isn’t that the post boy coming to our cottage ? Do look ! 
There may be letters from papa, or a message from 
Horace.” 

Yes, there were letters and a message both. 

Col. Montgomery would be with them by the noon of to- 
morrow. Mr. Leighton would come possibly a little earlier, 
as his train was due somewhat in advance of the Ashland 
express. But the poor mother could only think of the 
lost opportunity and how terribly hard it was to tell 
Helen that she was dying. She looked at her now with 
bitter tears, like a blinding mist, in her eyes. 

“Why, what is the matter, mamma!” she exclaimed, 
springing from the sofa, her own eyes bright as stars, her 
cheeks glowing with the excitement of such news. “ Are 
you weeping for joy? Well, I never do that ; but I do 
want to see papa, dear, old papa ! And even Horace — a 


THE UNSPOKEN WARNING. 


107 


little. What gay times we will have together. Mamma, 
is not Leslie Hope well enough to come to see me 
yet?” 

“ She wished very much to come to-day, dear, so her 
mother said, but was not feeling so strong as she has been. 
She is thinking of coming to-morrow, and I wish it might 
be managed, but with your papa and Mr. Leighton 
here ” 

“ Why do you say ‘ managed,’ mamma, as if you were 
arranging for an interview, or a conference, and it is only 
Leslie, whom we have known always ? There’s a mystery 
somewhere to-day, an undercurrent which I feel some- 
how about me. Now, mamma ” 

But Mrs. Montgomery had no time to explain, even if 
she had wished, or dared. A number of giddy young 
creatures came from the hotel to spend an hour in the 
cottage with “ dear Helen.” 

They were almost all girls whom they had met before, 
either in traveling, or at such resorts as this ; girls who 
spent their frivolous lives in a whirl of fashion. They 
were accustomed to come here, to sit by Helen’s couch, 
chatting as such girls do, of balls and receptions, dress 
and beaux, indulging freely the romance of youth and 
hope in planning beautiful futures for each other. And 
Mrs. Montgomery had never minded it much before. 
But, aroused as she was to-day at the thought of Helen’s 
danger, she could not bear to listen to their idle talk. 
They seemed too, to flaunt their health and beauty at the 
very tomb of her own child’s hopes and longings. And 


108 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


then the hours seemed to rush by with such unimpeded 
swiftness. Time at last had grown precious. 

I will wait not one day longer,” she said to her 
aching heart, when they were gone, and Helen had sunk 
on her pillows, white and exhausted. “ Somebody shall 
tell my child the truth — if I cannot. Her father is 
coming to-morrow, and Horace. I will telegraph for 
them to bring a minister too. But, no ; Mr. Bertram will 
be best. She will go back at once to her sweet ways of 
trying to be good ; she will say she wants to lean upon 
her Saviour, to be a Christian, to make her soul ready 
for heaven, just as she did in that meeting years ago. 
Yes, I wdll wait until to-morrow, when her father comes, 
before I send for Mr. Bertram. Perhaps that would be 
right. But not another hour shall it be put off. Oh, I 
have taken a fearful risk ! But I thank God, there is 
still time. All the rest of my life, I will praise and 
serve him because it is not too late.” 

Yet it was too late. 


CHAPTER IX. 


GETTING READY FOR GUESTS. 

H elen slept heavily and late the next morning. 

She had spent one of her “ bad nights,” as Mrs. 
Montgomery stated, in response to the kindly inquiries 
made by friends at the hotel breakfast table, and she sent 
some message scarcely more definite than this to the Hope 
cottage next door. 

The truth was that she had been greatly alarmed for 
an hour or two when, the hectic flush all gone, Helen 
had lain marble-white, breathing in short, painful gasps. 
But she had grown quiet after a stimulant had been 
given, and toward morning had fallen asleep. She had 
begged her mother in a whisper not to awaken her for a 
long time ; not, indeed, until she must be getting ready 
for the expected guests, who were coming at noon. 

“ I shall wake up so refreshed then,” she said, in that 
altered, husky tone that smote upon the mother’s heart 
more heavily than usual ; and so she did. The failing 
young life put forth one more effort. 

“ You may put on my new blue wrapper, mamma,” she 
said, looking very lovely from the restfulness of sleep, the 
exquisite glow in her cheek once more ; for I do not, 
after all, feel quite equal to a full-dress toilet this morn- 
ing. And, mamma, baste some of that old lace we grot 

109 


110 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


at Rouen, in the neck and wrists. It is in the little 
sandal- wood cabinet on the shelf over there. And I won- 
der how it would be best to arrange my hair ? Couldn’t 
you do it as I wore it last winter — the long braids caught 
up, you know, with jeweled pins, and the short fluffy bang 
parted in the middle ? It was always such a becoming 
style. Do you think Horace will pay me any compli- 
ments, mamma? Oh, I wish I was well, quite well 
again. I hate to be so thin.” 

She held up her hand, lately so dimpled and exquisite, 
and the costly engagement ring fell to the floor. Mrs. 
Montgomery turned white to her lips. But Helen only 
laughed in her petulant, airy fashion. 

“Is it a bad omen, mamma? Well, never mind. Only 
hurry in making me beautiful again for papa and Horace 
to see. It must be almost time for the trains now ; and 
what a dreadful thing it would be, if I were not ready to 
meet them ! ” 

As the mother hurriedly dressed her darling, her 
thoughts were very bitter. She who had led a nominal 
Christian life, who had held church membership for over 
thirty years, perhaps, had never been in agony about her 
own soul. She had settled the question to her own satis- 
faction when she was confirmed in a large class by the 
old white-haired bishop ; and since that time she had per- 
formed what she decided to be her religious duties in a 
way that her conscience seldom disapproved. But Helen 
had never leaned toward her church. She had refused to 
receive the solemn rite of confirmation with her young 


GETTING READY FOR GUESTS. 


Ill 


friends and associates, which, looking backward, she could 
not now greatly wonder at. 

What Helen’s restless, unsatisfied heart demanded was 
a religion before which the vanity and frivolity of her 
empty young life would flee away ; a religion founded on 
rational, efifective, humble, and helpful work for Christ. 
It was a part of her nature to turn away from a religion 
of sacramental forms, ceremonies, and formalities. But 
neither the mother nor child understood just what had 
divided them in the past, or brought them to where they 
stood to-day. Helen would not, or could not, turn those 
light thoughts of hers toward eternity, and sent a new 
pang to her mother’s remorseful heart every hour by her 
earthly plans and conversation. Ah, how she clung to 
the one solitary hope that Helen would not only hear, hut 
heed the minister’s prayers and warning. For to see her 
beloved child meet death just as she was now w^as a crown 
of sorrow she felt sure she could not endure. 

Her hands were icy cold, but her brain seemed on fire 
as she braided Helen’s long, lovely hair and arranged her 
dress. But the girl did not notice the trembling touches 
or pallid cheeks. She filled up the moments of waiting 
by piquant nothings, flashes of wit, and wistful, half-sad 
little wonderings as to what Horace would say, or her 
father would think, of her looks and health. 

When she was quite ready, and the cottage parlor put 
in order for company, she was in the gayest possible 
spirits, and kept up a running fire of question and answer 
with her stricken-hearted mother. 


112 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


Oh, mamma dear,” she said, at last, why are you 
not glad and gay like me ? Is there anything troubling 
you ? Oh, mamma, I do want some flowers to wear ! J ust 
a cluster of pure white waxen things would look lovely 
where the lace meets at my throat ; and Horace will be 
pleased. He is fond of flowers. Don’t you think you 
could get me a few from the hotel florist? ” 

“ I’ll run over and see, dearest,” said her mother. “It 
will take but a minute, and you will not mind being alone. 
I’ll try to get you some fragrant jasmine, or a white ca- 
melia or two. You have only to fasten the flowers in 
your dress — here are the pearl pins you like best for that 
— and then you are quite ready. Ah, poor Horace will be 
losing his heart over again for your lovely looks. I have 
made you as charming as possible to receive your guests.” 

But a guest unasked, unexpected, was already waiting 
upon the threshold, and stalked into the mountain cot- 
tage the moment she had gone. A hemorrhage, so sudden 
and so profuse that Helen lay bathed in her life-blood, 
caused instant death. The beating heart was stilled in 
a moment. There had evidently been no spasm of pain, 
no time for fear. But all was over. 

Her spirit had taken its flight. Only fair and lovely 
clay remained. Ah. those waxen, pulseless hands ; that 
quiet breast, never to be stirred again by the throb of 
that light heart ; those sleep bound eyes, which were ever 
so full of love and life ; that rigid, alabaster face — who 
could gaze unmoved upon it ? Who could look, except 
through a blinding rain of tears? 


GETTING READY FOR GUESTS. 


113 


The father and lover pressed fond, clinging kisses on 
the sweet, blanched face, already stamped with unearthly 
beauty, and placed the flowers the mother had brought, 
which, like some other things, came too late for life, in 
the marble-cold hand. 

But the mother herself sat apart in apathetic misery 
that gave no sign. She gave neither kisses nor tears to 
her dead. The words, Too late ! ” “ Too late ! ” kept 
running through her brain, sometimes to the measured 
time of some sorrowful lament, and then again to the 
quick motion of some airy waltz. Then she began to 
whisper them over in a strange, unmeaning way, her 
pallid lips scarcely moving, her eyes fixed blankly on the 
face of her child. 

The minister too, who was not needed now, stood aside. 
He had no right to kiss, not even to weep over, the be- 
loved dead, lying so near him in her wondrous beauty, so 
far from him for all eternity. But his heart bled ; and 
the accusing, unsparing pangs of conscience, which 

is harder than our enemies, 

Knows more, reproaches with more nicety, 

were busy with his soul. 

He had seen all the mad folly of dissipation and ex- 
citement that fanned the spark into a flame, far too bright 
for the frail lamp in which it was enshrined. He had 
meant to implore the mother’s hand to lessen its intensity. 
He had meant himself to do what he could to tone down 
its brilliant power. He had hoped and prayed to do far 
H 


114 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


more than this. He knew he ought to warn Helen Mont- 
gomery of the deadly peril to which her thoughtless young 
soul was exposed ; to entreat her, “ in Christ’s stead, to 
be reconciled to God ” ; to implore her to seek that peace 
which passeth all understanding, and would light with 
its glory the dark valley of the shadow of death, through 
which she must soon go alone. He dared postpone this 
duty no longer. He told himself he would speak to her 
— no matter what happened — to-morrow. God forgive 
him if he had already waited too long. And now to- 
morrow had come, and his opportunity was no more. 
Helen was gone ! 

Leslie Hope had her share too of these bitter, unavail- 
ing regrets to hear. She had meant to speak to poor 
Helen, to whisper her appealing, tearful little warning in 
her friend’s ear to-morrow. It would have been a heal- 
ing thought of balm in this sorrowful hour if she had 
only done so ; if she had prayed so that the dying girl 
might have heard her, the same prayers she had sent up 
to God from the solitude of her own little room in the 
cottage, her burden of self-remorse might be less heavy. 
Might not things have been very different to-day from 
what they were if she had spoken to Helen in the first 
gay days they had spent together on this mountain height ? 
Might she not have gone forth on her long journey in 
less darkness and danger, knowing something, perhaps, 
of the way through Christ, if she had seen the lamp of 
her faith and love shining brightly, trimmed and burn- 
ing ? Oh, these sad, perplexing “ might have beens ” I 


GETTING READY FOR GUESTS. 


115 


God only knew the answer to them all. But never, 
never again, Heaven helping her, would she put off the 
word in season till to-morrow. “ Now, while it is called 
to-day,” she would speak ever afterward. And you will 
see that these vows, made in the storm of her first real 
sorrow, were not forgotten in the calm and sunny places 
of Leslie Hope’s future life. 

For reasons which nobody had a right to inquire or 
to question, Helen’s precious clay was given temporary 
burial on Maury Heights. The stricken parents left all 
the sad details, as well as the mournful rites which fol- 
lowed, to the minister. And so it was Mr. Bertram who 
chose the spot for Helen’s last, long sleep, a lovely green 
slope in the heart of a forest, — a pine forest, — through 
whose branches the fitful winds swept a mournful requiem 
over the young life so soon ended. 

It was natural that these friends, new and old, who had 
seen so much of each other upon the mountain top, and 
whom a common sorrow had drawn so closely together, 
should now separate. Not one of the number had any 
wish or heart to stay longer where everything spoke of 
Helen and of death and the grave. And so, in a day or 
two more, ail had left Maury Heights, going their several 
ways. 

It was realized from the first that Helen’s mother had 
lost her reason. She had become a prey to such deep 
melancholy that life itself was endangered. But Colonel 
Montgomery refused to allow his beloved wife to become 
the inmate of a hospital until convinced that by doing so 


116 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


he might entertain a strong hope of her ultimate recovery. 
In this, however, he was disappointed. The melancholy 
grew gentler, less painful, indeed; but the wandering 
mind went farther and farther astray. Reason came back 
no more to its deserted throne. Yet she had what the 
attendants called “ lucid intervals ” at times, in which she 
talked very touchingly of a lovely child she had once lost 
on some wild mountain top ; of a fair, young life that 
strayed away in the dark and was found no more. Rut 
God was merciful. It was not long before he took the 
poor life and broken heart from the depths of its penitence 
and remorse to himself. 

The husband, who had been lingering near, a sad and 
helpless witness of the sufferings he could only pity, not 
alleviate, now went abroad, and the old home and old 
friends saw him no more. 

Mr. Bertram turned away from Helen’s grave to begin 
anew his life-work among men. He preached Christ more 
earnestly and powerfully than ever before to his charge, 
a new church of growing influence in one of the great 
cities of the West. He often spoke to the young with a 
strange thrill in his persuasive voice of the meaning of 
their life and its responsibilities, and of the importance 
of improving the passing moments. He bade them all 
beware of a mere butterfly existence, living only for the 
present pleasure and making no provision for the future. 
He would have all present things pay homage to that. 
He was fond too of quoting some quaint lines he had 
found in an old book somewhere : 


GETTING EEADY FOR GUESTS. 


117 


“ Live while you live,” the epicure would say, 

‘‘ And seize each pleasure of the passing day.” 

“ Live while you live,” the Christian soldier cries, 

“And give to God each moment as it flies.” 

“ Lord, in my life let both united be, 

I live in pleasure when I live in thee.” 

Horace Leighton hurried away with the rest, but he 
had no thought of going home to Ashland. A sudden 
and terrible disappointment had fallen upon that shallow 
soul of his, which invested him with the new dignity of 
deep and genuine sorrow. Whatever had been this wild 
young man’s faults, he had loved most tenderly the girl 
who had been his promised wife, and he now shrank away 
from the thought of the old familiar scenes, haunts of 
dissipation and vices that he knew only too well, while 
the tragedy of Helen’s death was fresh in his mind. He 
felt very wretched and reckless in these first days of 
his loss and sorrow, and did not seem to care very 
much where he went or what he did. A month or 
two in the Adirondacks, roughing it with some of 
his companions, climbing the sides of those rugged 
peaks by day, lounging around the camp fires by night, 
would answer as well as anything. So here he betook 
himself. 

As for Mrs. Hope and Leslie, thus left alone they 
turned eagerly to the dear old home in Ashland. Such 
varied experiences had crowded into their brief summer 
outing as made it seem a vast period, while, in point of 
fact, it was only a matter of four weeks. But the two 
were thcwoughly homesick, nevertheless, and longed for a 


118 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


sight of the old place, rambling in such a friendly fashion 
amid its pleasant surroundings. 

The mother felt that her whole life had been changed. 
She meant henceforth to make sincere atonement for the 
miserable mistakes of her past Christian life ; and, more 
than all, to lend a hand where it was most needed. A 
practical, sensible woman was Mrs. Hope by nature. 

And Leslie had her plans too, a sort of loving ministry, 
which made her pray : 

“God helping me to higher life and gain, 

Courage and strength to give them counsel wise, 

And deeper power to bless them in their pain.” 


CHAPTER X. 

Leslie’s baptism and service. 

^ ^ ^ T OTHER,” said Leslie, coming into the room the 
next Saturday afternoon, where Mrs. Hope was 
folding away with a thoughtful face some of her 
daughter’s ball dresses, among them the blue and silver 
worn on that night never to be forgotten : “ I have been 
talking to father about something I wish to do very 
much, and he has given his full consent. I want to 
unite with the church, and be baptized next Sunday. 
Have you any objection? ” 

There was a time, and not so long ago either, when this 
mother would have met such a proposal from Leslie with 
sundry objections and arguments. She would, in all 
probability, have suggested that it would look much 
better, far less singular, to wait a little while. There 
were almost sure to be others by-aud-by to go forward 
with her, which would make it so much less embarrass- 
ing. It was sure to create comment among a certain set 
of their fashionable acquaintances. And what would the 
talented young lawyer, Mr. Mather, say, with his extreme 
high church views, and his intolerance for such things 
as heart-felt religion, and his horror of immersion ? 

All this, and much more would the Mrs. Hope of a 
few weeks ago have said in answer to her child’s gentle 

119 


120 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


question. But Leslie’s mother was wonderfully changed. 
She had been long a converted woman, not greatly lack- 
ing in devotion to the duties and doctrines of her own 
church. She rather enjoyed hearing herself called, as 
she sometimes did, an uncompromising Baptist ” ; but 
she had not found, nay, never thought to find, the deep- 
est happiness of her life in the service of Christ, as her 
husband had seemed to do. She had never felt till now 
that intense yearning over the souls of her children, that 
spirit of “ I will not let thee go except thou bless ” con- 
cerning their salvation, that every Christian mother ought 
to feel. She had not realized that these children of hers 
would expect, perhaps depend upon, her sympathy and 
help at every step when they did come to Christ. She 
had never known until now that she had no right to ex- 
pect that reverence for holy things so sadly lacking in 
both her boys, and especially in the younger, Frank, 
with the careless unfaithfulness, the worldly scheming, of 
her daily life before their eyes. 

Ah ! many things had been revealed to her of late. 
Those vigils by her sick child’s bed had done her own 
soul good. They had shown her herself. “ Have I any 
objection? ” she repeated now, as Leslie stood waiting be- 
fore her. “ No, child, no. I am glad for you to come 
out on the Lord’s side, and to come at once. I want you 
to obey your Saviour, to be baptized just as he was, and 
‘to walk in newness of life’ from henceforth. Oh, my 
child, when I think of Helen, and what the Bible says, 
‘ Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. 


LESLIE^S BAPTISM AND SERVICE. 


121 


For what is your life? It is even a vapor/ — you know 
the rest, — I feel what a terrible risk I have taken on your 
soul, on the souls of your brothers ! Life is so uncer- 
tain, even to the young. Oh, Leslie, child, don’t ask your 
mother any more about objections. I believe you are 
really and truly one of God’s own children, and will 
make a far better Christian worker than I have ever 
been. And don’t trouble about getting things ready for 
your baptism, dear. I will see to everything.” 

And so the child kissed her mother and thanked her, 
and went away with a happy heart, grateful for the 
change. 

There were many in the audience on the following 
Friday evening whose hearts were thrilled and touched 
by the experience this timid young girl so briefly, but 
beautifully related. It was only the story, a simple story 
too, of her recent conversion, occurring during the last 
half-year at school. Smiles and tears contended on many 
faces as the vote of the church was recorded receiving 
her, and as the warm words of welcome were spoken by 
the pastor. 

The following Sunday was the first Sunday after Mr. 
Kaynor’s return from a delightful rest and vacation. His 
cheek wore the flush of health again, and he preached to 
the large congregation with unusual earnestness and power. 
And that afternoon, Garrison Street Church, though 
nearly as large as any of the Ashland houses of worship, 
could not contain the crowd that came to see Leslie 
Hope’s baptism. 


122 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


It was a strangely impressive scene, and some who came 
to gaze in mere curiosity went away thrilled and moved, 
confessing that they had seen the “ one baptism ” of the 
New Testament, for which Christ’s own burial in the 
waters of the Jordan set the example. 

And Leslie made a lovely picture, with her fair, pure, 
noble face, her sweet uplifted eyes, her golden hair fall- 
ing like a veil about the soft, white robe. There were a 
few, at least, who carried the tender beauty and wondrous 
power of the scene away in their hearts to remember al- 
way. From this open confession of her Master and con- 
secration of herself to his service, this young disciple 
went forth to do a quiet, but most efficient work for him 
whom she so loved, and who so loved her. 

As the autumn of that year wore away, Mr. Raynor 
became greatly encouraged in his labors. He saw cer- 
tain, unfailing signs of growth and progress in the vari- 
ous departments of church work. 

The Sunday-school had been the most trying of all, 
perhaps, with its want of life and inefficiency. But even 
here he began to notice improvement. Both scholars 
and teachers now came more promptly and regularly ; 
the superintendent talked less, and offered more fervent 
if briefer prayers. And there were some other changes. 
Deacon Hope, after an absence of several years, had 
come back and taken charge of the hardest class in the 
school, composed of rough and ignorant mill boys, and 
seemed to manage them perfectly. And the deacon’s 


Leslie’s baptism and service. 123 

grown-up sons had at last joined the pastor’s Bible class 
and came every Sunday. Leslie herself had brought in 
half a dozen new scholars, so quietly and naturally no 
one seemed to notice that corner as new ; and, always in 
her place, she taught them of such things as seemed to 
her most winning as well as most helpful. 

The prayer meeting too, began to thrive and take on 
new life. When, in all the annals of the Ashland Church, 
had so many people attended it? Oh, what dull affairs 
those Wednesday evening meetings used to be? The 
organist, who played so beautifully on Sundays, had never 
meant to come to the prayer meeting, and there was hardly 
ever any one present who seemed willing to play the small 
cabinet organ used on such occasions, and the singing 
was such a drawl without it or a leader. And the young 
people rarely came out. There were so few, a mere hand- 
ful. The minister said he had little hope of ever building 
up the prayer meeting, whatever else he might do. But 
when Leslie had persuaded her cousin, who was a fine 
musician and went nowhere else, to preside at the organ, 
a friend of his then kindly volunteered to lead the singing. 
And the Hope family always came now, Leslie nearly 
every evening bringing in a whole pew full of her young 
friends, among whom was occasionally seen Harold, Mr. 
Raynor’s adopted son, wild and wayward, indeed, but 
dear to the hearts that bled over him, and loved him too, 
in spite of all. 

The minister worked as if under a vow these days. 

“ I can see how imperfectly my work was done before 


124 


A THKEAD OF GOLD. 


I went away,” he told his wife ; “ I do not in the least 
wonder now that our church was so cold, formal, lifeless. 
The fault was mine, not my people’s. They only needed 
arousing, and I have tried with all my soul to do that 
these last months. Don’t you think there is a wonderful 
change ? ” 

“I do, indeed! But I knew a brighter day would 
dawn, sooner or later. You have sown in the darkness ; 
you reap in the light. You lived in the promise of the 
blessing, and now should rejoice in its fulfillment. Such 
preaching as you have given since your coming back 
would arouse any people.” 

The tender wife said this. Neither he nor she, nor 
anybody else, for that matter, ever called Leslie Hope 
the instrument in God’s hands of bringing the greater 
part of the wonderful change to pass. She herself was 
even more unconscious than the rest of what he was per- 
mitting her to accomplish for his glory. She went flitting 
here and there about her Master’s business, in a sweet, 
girlish, natural way. She loved her Saviour ; how could 
she help witnessing for him by a word each day ? She loved 
her church ; what was more likely than that she should 
work with all her soul for its prosperity ? And there was 
so much to do 1 She had so many plans. She said little 
about results. God always looked after them. But she 
meant to show her love for him and his people by her 
work. It expressed more than words. Might not any 
other Christian girl have done as much ? 

The parsonage had a brighter look of late, as well as 


Leslie’s baptism and service. 


125 


some other things. It was evident that poverty and care 
still abode there, for the weary struggle to make both ends 
meet was not yet ended. But there are other burdens 
with which poverty has nothing to do, and these had 
been lifted. Harold was back in the university — graver, 
steadier, than he had been for years. And the pastor had 
grown to feel with a thrill of grateful joy in his heart 
that he really had, what he so often doubted, the love, 
confidence, and sympathy of his people. And so the little 
home wore an air of peace and content which the little 
ones felt, if no more. The father betook himself to gay 
romps with them now and then, and was their favorite 
playfellow. The tender-hearted mother seeing this, and 
being very glad over it, concealed all the more closely 
her own anxieties, and threw around them all the light of 
her cheerful smile. 

And so the days, filled with the ministry of love, with 
work and play, passed by, and the old year was nearly 
gone. Christmas was approaching. 

Leslie was sure she had never known time to be in such 
a hurry to race away. It could not be possible that to-day 
was really Christmas eve ! Yet it really was, and the 
brightest, happiest one too, that her fortunate, sheltered 
young life had yet known. She was very busy all day, 
up to her eyes in work, she said, getting ready to help 
Santa Claus. 

For Leslie Hope meant this particular Christmas tide 
to come with its beautiful glow and generous gifts to 
many hearts not so light and happy as her own. And 


126 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


she really did have her bauds as full as they could be of 
all sorts of things. There was a goodly number of those for 
whom she had been making useful, appropriate, and taste- 
ful presents in her leisure moments for weeks past. 
Among these were the pastor’s family, the dear girls of her 
Sunday-school class, her three best friends in her own set, 
some children of the mission connected with her church, 
two or three aged women in the Home, besides her own 
loved ones. And so she spent the hours of the day before 
Christmas shut in her fair little room upstairs, labelling, 
sorting, and making up into parcels, pretty and dainty, 
tissue-covered and ribbon-bound, the goodly array of 
gifts, ready to go forth on their grateful mission. Mean- 
time, both heart and lips were full of song. She was just 
as happy as possible, rejoicing, as God means his children 
to do, so safe and peaceful beneath the protecting live 
oaks, and amid the warm hearts there, who loved her so. 
And her busy thoughts, flying here and there, touching 
lightly this festive morning, rested a moment at the little 
parsonage, her pastor’s home. Were they all happy 
to-day, looking forward to as beautiful a to-morrow as she, 
Leslie Hope, was doing? Would the little ones there 
have their darling wishes gratified, when they awoke in 
the morning ? She glanced toward her pile of little gifts, 
tied with the prettiest of all the ribbons, rose color, and 
her bright face clouded. They looked small, poor, and so 
few, after all. And yet she had put the lion’s share of 
both her time and Christmas money in the parsonage 
remembrance. The toys in the basket there, for the three 


Leslie’s baptism and service. 327 

little Raynors, had cost her more than the gift she had 
chosen for the dearest of fathers. And now, since she had 
done her best, perhaps — no she had not done her best ! 
There was a plan 

But what it was she had no time just then to say or 
think, for there was a hurried knock at the door. Her 
mother stood outside, her arms full of bundles. 

“Leslie, dear,” she began, “I wonder if you would 
help me a little ? I want these things taken to the par- 
sonage right away — some dolls, trumpets, dresses, sacks, 
candies, nuts, hoods, mittens, and — oh, I don’t know what 
all. Frank and your father gave me the money to spend 
for the Raynor children, and I got a lot of things with 
it — more than I expected to. Edwin sent Mrs. Raynor 
a hamper of everything nice from the store, and I sent 
jelly, fruit, cake, and ambrosia by one of the servants. 
But he said he couldn’t manage these. Do you think 
you can ? ” 

The girl sprang up eagerly. “Oh, mother, mother! 
How glad I am 1 How came you to think of such a de- 
lightful thing? ” 

“ Why, I didn’t ; you suggested it.” 

“ When ? ” asked Leslie, in amazement. 

“ Oh, some time ago. Don’t you remember ? Mrs. 
Peyton was planning a little feast for her mission class 
and you said, H hope our minister’s little ones will be 
happy this Christmas.’ She is as rich as she is generous, 
but it seems she had not once thought of them. I don’t 
know what she sent, but they are unloading a wagon 


128 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


there, and the children are dancing around as if pos- 
sessed. So Ben said when he took my bundles. And 
then, one day when Mrs. Cecil Grant w^as here, you surely 
remember that we were talking of Christmas, baking 
cakes and pies, and so on, and you said ‘ you wished Mrs. 
Raynor s Christmas pantry would be as full as anybody’s 
for once, if no more.’ It seemed to strike her in some 
way. She asked me and a few other lady members to 
help make it so. There w'ere four turkeys, and — I smell 
that cake burning, Leslie ! Don’t you ? I must go down 
at once. And you just run along, child, and give them 
all a ‘ Merry Christmas,’ though it is a trifle early to 
begin, and — and the other things.” 

Had these lightly spoken, scarcely remembered words 
of hers, really brought all this about ? It was hard to 
believe it, and yet it was true. 







i 

1 

• 

'!■ 

% ' 

■ Vfii 

ir ' - 


1- ’ 





A Thread of Gold. 


Page 129 







CHAPTER XI. 


HOW SHE RECEIVED, 



OT once had the twenty-fifth of December dawned 


A- ’ upon a white world in Ashland within the memory 
of its oldest inhabitant. Such exciting sports as snow- 
ball and coasting were quite unknown to the youthful 
denizens. And this year the midwinter holiday was 
ushered in by as golden a sunrise and balmy an at- 
mosphere as its fairest Christmas tide had ever rejoiced 
in. There was a subtle suggestion of spring in the air, 
and the lights and shades of the vanished summer seemed 
to steal back to the brown meadows beyond the town. 

At the parsonage the usually cheerful fires were neg- 
lected, and through, the perfect afternoon, in the ample 
grounds about the cottage, some twenty children romped 
and swung, played games and sang, chatted and laughed 
long and merrily. 

Indoors there was less noise, less play, but as much 
enjoyment. Busy feet went to and fro, and last things 
were receiving the finishing touch from hands that evi- 
dently delighted in such tasks. Leslie Hope and her very 
particular friend, Kate Garnett, were, it appeared, the 
leading spirits of this occasion, and flitted hither and 
thither, seeming to be in all parts of the house at once. 

The folding-doors between the dining room and a sunny 


I 


129 


130 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


gallery were thrown back, and in the centre of this space 
stood a tall, graceful pyramid of books, bundles, and boxes, 
crowned with toys and bags of many-colored gauze, filled 
with sweetmeats. On its right was a table, white with dam- 
ask, shining with silver and crystal, glowing with flowers 
and some exquisite Christmas roses, fairly loaded with 
good things. There were great bowls of quivering jelly, 
baskets of frosted cake, stands of oranges, apples, and 
bananas, wreathed about with clusters of white and purple 
grapes, and plenty else. 

The little guests, playing outside, for whom this lovely 
Christmas festival had been prepared, were the very poor- 
est children of the city, children who h ad been gathered in 
from time to time to the mission school nourished and cared 
for by the Garrison Street Church. The parents were, for 
the most part, overworked mill hands, or factory people, 
and their homes, food, and clothing were untidy, unwhole- 
some, and neglected. Who ever thought of giving an en- 
tertainment, perfect in every detail as a children’s after- 
noon, to such as they ? 

“ Do you know what I should like to do sometime — on 
Christmas day, for instance? ” said Leslie, a week or :\vo 
before to Mrs. Kaynor, when she had brought home in 
her carriage the little Augusta from a grand children’s 
afternoon f^te, given in a beautiful home on the boulevard, 
where there had been a bountiful preparation for their en- 
tertainment ; “ why, I should like to have just such a lovely 
feast as this ; not so fine or costly, perhaps, but as pretty 
and tasteful, with quantities of flowers iind fruits, and 


HOW SHE EECEIVED. 


131 


sometliing appropriate for each to take home, and invite 
only those poor, pinched mites of children, those miser- 
able-looking little waifs you see around the factories, on 
the doorsteps of the Kow, or at our mission. We seem 
to have more than our share of such since the new manu- 
factories have been running. Yes, I would invite just 
those little things to my party. I would give them one 
white day to stand out like a picture ; they should have 
something sweet and fair to look back upon, to remember. 
Don’t you think it would be nice ? ” 

Leslie was fond of saying “nice” and “lovely,” and queer 
old Miss Abigail Brewster, who stood in the door with 
Mrs. Raynor, and listened to the fol-de-rol, as she called 
it, poured out by the gay young tongue, despised such 
words. But the rich, lonely old woman, boarding at the 
“ Washington,” up town, with neither home nor ties in spite 
of her money, had a tender little spot in that eccentric, 
stony, miserly breast of hers for poor or neglected children. 
She had been both in her own desolate orphanage, for the 
accident of fortune, as those thin lips were wont to phrase 
it, happened only very recently, after years of feebly 
keeping the wolf from the door by taking in work. And 
so she did not take note for once of poor Leslie’s adjectives. 
She had gotten a new thought, and was turning it over 
and twisting it this way and that, even while the girl was 
making her adieu, and the carriage was driving away. 

“ I would like to do it,” she was saying to Mrs. Raynor, 
a few moments later ; “ but it couldn’t be managed at a 
hotel.” 


132 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


“ There’s the parsonage, you know,” said the mistress 
of the manse, brightly ; “ could you make that answer, 
do you think ? ” 

“ Yes. If it would not be too much trouble to you, 
that is to say. And perhaps that young girl — Miss Hope 
— would come herself and lend a hand in making those 
dull-eyed children enjoy themselves? I couldn't do any- 
thing in that line, but I can send loads of toys, and all 
the gim-cracks and knick-knacks they like, and I will.” 

So it was settled then and there, and Miss Abigail was 
so full of her project that she could not exactly keep it 
secret, as she had meant at first. And ever so many of 
Mr. Raynor’s people were at once interested in its success. 
They thought it lovely of Miss Brewster to give those 
poor little things such a charming Christmas feast. But 
she must not be allowed to do so much by herself. They 
too, w’anted a finger in the pie. And so many bundles, 
boxes, and baskets were sent, such piles of toys and dolls, 
such loads of good things, it was no wonder that by the 
eventful afternoon there was plenty and to spare, and 
each child was sent home richly laden, grateful and happy. 

Days or afternoons are seldom a perfect realization of 
what we hoped and planned before they come, but this 
particular one of Miss Abigail’s feast was certainly very 
nearly so. 

Leslie herself was so happy, as she hurried home in the 
gloaming, that she would have been greatly surprised had 
any inquired of her as to its good, or asked with one of 
old, “ Why was this waste ? ” 


HOW SHE RECEIVED. 


133 


Some words quite as ancient were making tender music 
in her glad young heart : “ It is more blessed to give than 
receive/* “ Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the least of 
these, ye did it unto me.” And for an answer she would 
have quoted such texts, adding no defense besides. She 
knew so little — being so young a Christian — of the im- 
pulses that may be given, the changes wrought, the aspi- 
rations suggested, by a fitting word dropped in the ear of 
the child ; or how often it goes straight down to the soul. 
She had yet to ponder the thought that the efforts we put 
forth for good here that seem so feeble, so incomplete, and 
well-nigh worthless at the time, often prove the germs from 
which rich harvests are garnered. One brief afternoon 
in the life of a child may not indeed be much, but it is 
something ; and one such as these warm Christian hearts 
had given to the friendless little ones was surely freighted 
with influences to live and strengthen through all their 
pilgrimage of pain, change, and temptation. So there was 
not a single regret in Leslie’s heart, and as she opened her 
own gate she found herself singing part of an old 
hymn she had found a few days before in a musty paper, 
yellow with age, in the garret : 

“Turn thee to the poor and sad, 

Make my little children glad, 

Feed the hungry, warm the cold, 

Love the lonely, cheer the old: 

Offer up thy gifts through them 
To me. Child of Bethlehem, 

Till from paradise I say. 

Thou hast wiped my tears away.” 


134 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


It was late when Leslie went into her own room that 
night. She was tired, and her bed with its dainty fur- 
nishing looked restful and inviting. But something kept 
her wide awake long after midnight. The dark eyes 
would not even stay closed. 

Before breakfast was over the next morning her broth- 
ers were quite sure there was some kind of a new scheme 
in her brain which she meant to propose at once. They 
waited for her to begin with a sort of amused impatience. 
They were growing accustomed to these plans of hers — 
she had so many these days — but they no longer scoffed 
or opposed her. There was something in Leslie’s new 
life which appealed to all that was best and noblest in 
the careless, thoughtless natures of the two young men. 
And so, when she said, “ Father, I want to talk with you 
a little,” they prepared to listen with due gravity and 
respectful silence. 

“Very well, my child,” answered the deacon, putting 
down his paper good-naturedly. “ I am all attention, as 
you see.” 

“ I only wanted you to tell me,” she went on, timidly, 
with a side glance at her tall brothers, now lounging by 
the cheerful open fire, “ what New Year’s receptions usually 
cost people, the kind, you know, where there are elegant 
tables of all sorts of refreshments, and a world of cut 
flowers, and lots of servants, and the ladies wearing the 
most lovely dresses, and people coming and going till 
midnight, and all that sort of thing. Surely they must 
cost a great deal of money. Is it not so, father dear ? ” 


HOW SHE RECEIVED. 


135 


Never had her listeners heard her bring to bear upon 
the case quite so wheedlesome a tone before. Whatever 
it was that she wanted, the old man would have to yield. 
He was looking at her over his glasses. 

“ A good round sum, daughter, even in Ashland, where 
they are not so elaborate as in New York and a few other 
places. But what is that to you, child ? I pay your bills, 
even when a new year is on hand.” 

“ But these receptions are a great deal of trouble, and 
even if you don’t mind the cost, father, one would fall 
rather heavily on mother. With all those refreshments 
to look after, the rooms and the decorations, and a con- 
stant stream of callers, perhaps, she would be quite broken 
down, I fear. I was wondering if it was worth all this. 
I was wishing ” 

“You will greatly enjoy the Ashland manner of re- 
ceiving, Leslie,” put in Mrs. Hope, kindly. “ It is very 
much simpler and pleasanter than you suppose, and we 
have always kept open house on New Year’s Day, though 
the custom is old-fashioned and no longer observed in 
larger cities. I am sorry that this is so. I like to see 
such things kept up. There is too little hospitality 
already. We need to show more, not less. And I do 
not wish our home to appear wanting in this grace, nor 
do your brothers. I have been thinking a good deal 
about it of late. Kate Garnett will assist you. As for 
the trouble and expense, those are things that are taken 
for granted, a necessary accompaniment. We will promise 
to grumble over neither. Besides, we regard keeping 


136 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


open house on New Year’s Day as a duty, a duty we owe 
our friends and neighbors.” 

“Is it a duty, mother? Will any real good come of 
it ? Kate says there was such a rush last year that there 
was not a moment for sensible conversation, and that wine 
was offered at some houses. She was sure that several of 
her callers were not quite themselves, and one or two 
almost reeled from the room. How could there be any 
enjoyment for those who caused such things as this, or 
even witnessed them ? ” 

Edwin glanced at Frank and half smiled, but the 
younger brother colored without lifting his eyes. Ah, 
they might have made some startling revelations about 
the New Year’s refreshments if they had chosen to do so. 

“Well, what is the upshot of all this?” asked her 
father, rising and looking about for his hat. “You don’t 
care to receive this year, child. Is that it ? ” 

“Not exactly, dear father. I want to receive very 
much indeed, but in a rather different way. I would 
have only invited guests at my New Year’s reception. 
It’s a beautiful plan, father. I’ve thought it all out, and 
if mother and you will only consent, I shall be the very 
happiest girl in Ashland.” 

Nobody could long withstand that sweet, pleading look, 
that timid, appealing voice. Certainly not Leslie’s father. 
He felt himself yielding without a struggle to this 
“ beautiful plan,” whatever it might prove or cost. 

“ You know,” she went on, “ how much interest I haVe 
felt for years in our Orphans’ Home, that old barn-like 


HOW SHE RECEIVED. 


137 


building where there are so many dear little children. 
Mother used to take me to see them when I was little, 
and there are lots of new ones coming in all the time, as 
the older ones are sent or given away to otlier homes. I 
have always felt sorry for them, and lately — ^ — Oh, 
don’t you see now what it is I long to do? It is not 
much ; only to invite every orphan boy and girl there 
to our dear home for New Year’s evening. That’s the 
reception I want to hold if you will only just say ‘ Yes.’ ” 

Nobody said “ No,” at least. Her father, secretly . 
proud in the depths of his fond old heart of his child’s 
tender thought for others, took her in his arms without 
a word. The mother went bustling about the room, lest 
the rest should see that her eyes were full of tears. The 
two young men who had meant to laugh, or to whistle, 
perhaps, forgot to do either, striding away to office and 
store without further lingering. And so Leslie had 
everything her own way. 

How rich in memories, sweet, sad, and tender, did this 
New Year’s evening become in after years, when her 
golden hair was threaded with silver ! She never forgot 
how beautiful the beloved old home appeared when the 
last touch had been given to the handsome rooms in 
which she was to receive her guests. The forest was laid 
under tribute, and their spoils shone and -gleamed on the 
walls, and spanned the arches of doors and windows. 
Magnolia boughs, mingled with holly and mistletoe, and 
fastened here and there were garlands of green, inter- 
woven with feathery grasses and. scarlet berries, outlining 


138 


A THEEAD OF GOLD. 


the curve of the staircase. The choicest plants of the 
conservatory lent their bloom and fragrance to the bright 
scene. No fairy land of their very loveliest dreams 
seemed quite as perfect to the little guests, who went and 
came at will through all this splendor, as did Miss Les- 
lie’s home.” 

And the evening was almost everything that the young 
hostess had hoped. The interest of her friends too 
had touched and pleased her. Kate Garnett had begged 
to receive with her just as she would have done, and wore 
one of her most becoming dresses and natural flowers in 
honor of the occasion. Harold Raynor, who sang a fine 
tenor, brought over a roll of music and half a dozen par- 
lor games, and promised the most circumspect conduct if 
Miss Leslie would only allow him to remain at the party. 
Her own brothers declared they had found the few calls 
they had made all alike and a stupid bore, and begged 
her to include them among “ her orphans ” for the even- 
ing. Privately, they stated that they meant to stay at 
home to see if there was any fun to be had out of “ Les- 
lie’s latest,” and to make a few observations for future use. 

Flossie Byington, a pretty little creature, who lived 
next door, in Helen’s old home, had slipped in too, and 
was playing as a sort of overture some fine old English 
music in a sweet, subdued way, not common to this gay 
girl. She had meant to receive ” herself ; she nearly 
always did, and enjoyed it ; but this time she preferred 
to help to entertain the dear children ; that is, if they all 
thought she could, and Leslie would let her come. 


HOW SHE RECEIVED. 


139 


As for Leslie herself, there was not one shade of care 
on her radiant face as she stood near the parlor door in 
her lovely white dress, flowers at her throat and in the 
braids of her bright hair, greeting each child with a 
charm of manner as natural as it was irresistible. She 
knew nearly all of them by name, for she had been dur- 
ing these last months one of the most frequent visitors of 
the “ Home.” She knew too the pathetic stories some of 
them carried in their wistful little faces, and her heart 
overflowed with its tide of tender pity as she saw them 
gathering under her father’s roof, her own dear, beauti- 
ful home, where she had been so sheltered and happy, 
while they — but she had little time for such thoughts. 
There were other groups coming in, — she had not dreamed 
there were so many, — and each one must have some spe- 
cial word of welcome. How merrily the orphan children 
played that night, laughing as lightly, singing as gayly, 
as only children can. Frank led the games, and made 
himself invaluable in many ways. Edwin told thrilling 
stories to an audience of small boys, who hung entranced 
upon his eloquence and hair-breadth escapes, and thereby 
flattered and pleased the embryo lawyer, who had never 
thought very highly of his powers in this direction before. 
Kate and Flossie took turns at the grand piano, dashing 
into the gayest waltzes and most spirited marches, obliv- 
ious for once of all classic music. Harold Kaynor sang 
his sweetest ballads, responding readily to the enthusiastic 
encores by selections so comic, they invariably “ brought 
down the house.” 


140 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


Mrs. Hope had taken far more pains with the long, 
ladened tables, stretched to their utmost limits across the 
dining room, than she had ever done for the elegant col- 
lation served from dainty little stands in the back parlor 
on former New Year’s occasions. She did all in her power, 
excellent woman that she was at heart, to do especial honor 
to this thought of her child’s, even to the putting on of 
her new black silk and some filmy old lace, an heirloom 
of great price in . the Hope family, and only worn on 
grand occasions. 

And now, when the portieres were opened, so that the 
company could enter the supper room, by twosj she stood 
beaming upon them in a motherly way that went straight 
to those poor, motherless little hearts. She saw to it her- 
self too that each child’s plate was heaped with the best 
the bountiful tables afforded. Kate looked after the 
youngest and most timid, scattering light and smiles and 
fun wherever she went. Flossie was helping Leslie to di- 
vide out a small mountain of gilded honbonnieres, pretty, 
inexpensive trifles, which the children were to carry home 
to remember her by. There was one for each, with a dainty 
painted card attached, on which the owner’s name was to 
be written in full ; a proceeding that seemed to give uni- 
versal satisfaction. 

It was a night they all remembered. The beautiful 
time often stole back to memory and soothed the children 
when, lonely or restless, they tossed about in their narrow 
cots in the great dormitory ; or when the attendants were 
tired and cross, and made the sore little hearts, bereft of 


HO\y SHE RECEIVED. 


141 


mamma’s soft touch and voice, sorer still. It put new 
thoughts into the souls of some, not dull, but unawak- 
ened. To others it gave a new purpose. 

And when the orphan children had gone away, fol- 
lowed a little later by the other guesis, and the house had 
grown very quiet, Leslie stood for a moment or two alone 
on the gallery, her slight young figure bathed in the white 
transforming beauty of the radiant moonlight that glori- 
fied the world about her. 

“ I said I would be the happiest girl in Ashland, if I 
might do this little thing for Christ,” she told her heart, 
as she walked up and down in the lovely stillness of the 
hour, “ and I really believe I am. It seemed to me that 
we had a Guest to-night whose presence we only felt, ra- 
ther than saw. Who knows but he stood in our midst 
with a blessing — 

‘A prophecy of better still to come, 

Of light and peace forevermore ’ ? 

Well, it is at least a very lovely thought to keep in one’s 
heart of hearts — a helpful thought to begin my new year 
with. Ah, would that this soul of mine would ever be 
ready to welcome the Stranger Guest — eager to receive 
my Master ! ” 

She stood for an instant with her face lifted to the sky, 
a look of child-like appeal in her brown eyes, and then 
went inside, closing the door softly behind her, and up to 
her own fair little room. 


CHAPTER XII. 


A MERE SUGGESTION 

I T was a chilly morning in the early spring. The in- 
constant sun made only flitting, half-hearted visits 
through the dull clouds, and there was something in the 
atmosphere extremely depressing even to the most buoyant 
spirits. 

It was Monday morning too, and it seemed difficult for 
people to pull themselves together for the week’s work 
without rubbing against each other in a way that was 
rather trying even to the best of tempers. 

Leslie Hope, gentle, amiable to a degree as she un- 
doubtedly was, felt more than a trifle under the weather. 
She confided to her mirror, as she stood before it for a 
moment to adjust her hat and walking jacket, that she 
certainly did feel all out of sorts with everything and 
everybody, though she could not say just why. 

She had promised, however, to devote the morning to a 
shopping expedition, in which sundry household needs 
must be considered that were not in the habit of waiting 
on a more convenient season, or the weather. 

“ Oh, I shall have to go,” she told the fair, fretful face, 
shaded by the brown plumes; no matter what those heavy 
low clouds mean to do. I never saw such a dull, dreadful 
142 


A MERE SUGGESTION. 


143 


looking morning. I’ve half a mind to tell mother I can’t 
go, and just stay at home, after all.” 

But she went on fastening the brown jacket and set- 
tling at a very becoming angle the brown hat that matched 
her eyes in color. She stopped a moment downstairs on 
her way out, to speak to her mother. 

Mrs. Hope, in her morning room, was surveying with 
rather a disconsolate air the week’s washing just counted 
over. She scarcely glanced up as Leslie approached, but- 
toning her long gloves as she came. 

“ Have you anything to add to my memorandum book, 
mother ? ” 

“If there were a dozen things, I couldn’t think of 
them,” said Mrs. Hope, dolefully. “The washing seems 
to grow larger every week ; and what with that and the 
servants’ complaining, and so much on my mind, my 
head seems to have gone all wrong this morning. There’s 
something in the air too, that weighs me down. But wait 
a minute, child. There is one little errand I’d like you 
to do while you are out. Go by the parsonage, and see 
if Mrs. Raynor is quite through with that mantle pattern 
I loaned her. I shall need it myself to-morrow, and shall 
be glad if you can bring it home. You won’t forget.” 

“ I will go there first,” said Leslie, turning away, “ to 
make sure of it.” 

The pastor usually spent Monday morning in the little 
sitting room downstairs, answering letters, looking over a 
memorandum of the most pressing duties to be performed 
that week and noting sundry bills and expenses ; this last 


144 


A THEEAD OF GOLD. 


not being the most cheerful occupation in the world for a 
poor minister’s blue Monday. 

Like almost everybody else, he wore a weary, dejected 
air on this particular morning ; but there was in his case, 
at least, a deeper cause than the dull and cloudy weather. 

There had come to the parsonage of late a change that 
filled the husband’s heart with deep foreboding; that 
made him feel, as he had never felt before — 

how mean 

Beside one true affection is the best 
Of all earth’s prizes, and how little worth 
The world would be without her love— herself 1 

For she who had been so strong in health and hope for 
years of happy married life, no longer went about the 
little home with light step and busy hands. Perhaps she 
had been too busy; perhaps it was his neglect; his 
dreamy way of looking at things without really taking 
them in, and so allowing the burden of care to fall on 
her, more than was fair or right. And so he had sent her 
away for as long as she would stay, to try the efiect of 
complete rest and change, and the best medical skill. 
But the two months of separation had only resulted in 
her coming home even paler and thinner than when she 
went away. 

Was her life on the wane? Was he about to lose this 
pearl of great price ? W as the precious, patient, loving 
mother of his children to leave them soon ? 

She was much on the old sofa in the sitting room these 
days, and the minister, who fancied that her face was more 


A MERE SUGGESTION. 


145 


wasted and colorless with each passing week was tom 
and beset with mingled thoughts of anxiety and fear. 

He could not help living over the old days, as he sat 
here and watched her, keeping the little ones at play out- 
side that she might have rest and quiet — the old days, 
when her cheek was round and glowing, her eyes sweet 
and winsome, unshaded by care ; wheo her young life 
was the courage and inspiration of his darkest hours, and 
all that made his way bright. And then he would go 
step by step over the toilsome, struggling years that lay 
between their bridal morning and this sad to-day. No 
wonder he often wept in his solitary study, or that the 
sermon he went to write was forgotten. 

They were both startled by Leslie’s quick ring at the 
bell. He, as he sat lost in thought, pen in hand, at his 
writing table ; she, lying back amid the pillows, traces 
of tears on her thin cheeks. 

“ I can’t see anybody this morning,” she said, starting 
up, a feverish flush springing to her face. “ I can’t bear 
to meet our people now.” 

“ Oh, my dear,” said her husband, reproachful sur- 
prise in his voice, “ don’t say that. Why should you? ” 

“Because it is true. They have been so very kind 
ever since my health failed, but when they increased your 
salary to make it possible for me to go away, they ex- 
pected that I would come back well and take up my du- 
ties, to be what a pastor’s wife ought to be — a help and 
comfort to them. Don’t you see ? I have come back — 
but I am only a burden still ; a poor, weak, suffering 
K 


146 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


creature, to be helped and comforted myself. Oh, it al- 
most breaks my heart to think how I accepted their kind- 
ness, their charity, and then disappointed them. No! 
I don’t want to see anybody.” 

The pastor had no time for soothing arguments just 
then. He was intensely relieved to find their early vis- 
itor only Leslie Hope. Mrs. Kaynor would not mind 
seeing her. Nobody, however morbid or sick at soul, could 
withstand her gay young voice, or banish that sunshiny 
face on a dun-colored, leaden day like this. 

“ I have but a moment to stay,” she announced in her 
clear treble, and stated her errand at once. 

“ Your mother will think me very careless, I am afraid,” 
said Mrs. Raynor, her face flushing again ; “ but I do not 
even know for certain just where the pattern is. I have 
been so — so idle of late, that I have not once thought of 
it, although I was quite through using it days ago. Will 
you just run up to my room and look for it on my work 
table, Leslie dear ? ” 

It required more time than the minister’s wife had 
thought necessary, even supposing that Leslie would not 
find the desired pattern on the little work table, for her 
to return. 

“ I am glad you found it, child ; but I am sure you 
found something else as well — that shocking disorder in 
which rooms and work tables get when hands are as use- 
less and idle as mine.” 

She heard a sad little sigh. But Leslie said nothing. 
She had a strangely absorbed look in her brown eyes, as 


A MERE SUGGESTION. 


147 


if her thoughts were busy, when she kissed the pastor’s 
wife good-bye. She had gone away more hastily too than 
was her custom in this home, where she had become a 
friend, well beloved and familiar. She had not even asked 
after the children — her favorite Augusta, her loyal little 
lover, Clyde, the baby girl who adored her, or any of 
them. Even the minister noticed this — at least after his 
attention had been called to it by his wife. 

The girl had gone away in “a brown study,” so to 
speak. The work table had followed her, haunted her all 
day, and would not down at her bidding. Yet it was 
not, after all, the work table itself, but the pile of unmade 
garments it upheld — aprons, dresses, coats, waists, skirts, 
and shirts — to be worn, when done, by the four little Ray- 
nors. There was a certain pathos in these mute testimo- 
nials of the illness of the once active, industrious little 
mother. It went to Leslie’s tender heart. It made her 
think of things she could not bear to look in the face. 
And meeting her friend, Kate Garnett, on the street, late 
that afternoon, she told her all about it. 

“ She couldn’t put out all that work, of course,” said 
Kate, her saucy face growing thoughtful too. 

“ Why, of course not,” answered Leslie, with decision ; 
“ but why couldn’t we go there some day soon, and do 
every stitch of it for her ourselves ? ” 

“We could,” said Kate, her smiles and dimples in full 
play again. “ That’s a splendid idea, Leslie Hope. I’ll 
talk it over with mamma to-night.” 

“ So will I,” exclaimed Leslie, gleefully. “ Our mothers 


148 


A THREAD OP GOLD. 


will know just what is best, and what steps to take 
first.” 

But the splendid idea was not destined to receive de- 
velopment through any work of hers. Mrs. Hope fell 
ill with something like pneumonia, and the next week or 
two were filled with anxiety and care. Leslie scarcely 
left her bedside at all these bright, lovely days, when the 
earth was waking to the new life and beauty of the 
spring. The poor child even forgot what she had hoped 
and planned to do toward helping her pastor’s sick wife. 

Meantime, Mrs. Lawrence Garnett, Kate’s mother, was 
in her element. 

She detained so many after the last Wednesday night 
prayer meeting, there was so much low- voiced conversa- 
tion, pleasant smiling, and evident good feeling among 
the ladies present, that the minister said to himself, as he 
came home afterward : “ I like to see that. It is only 
natural that they should wish to discuss their home affairs 
together as sisters. I want them to love each other.” 

And he told his wife that they had had a very pleas- 
ant meeting, and that he had come away refreshed and 
strengthened. 

The truth was, that these ladies were settling the final 
details for a gathering at the parsonage the following 
Wednesday, at which time the “sewing bee” would take 
place. It was an occasion that required careful planning. 
They would have greatly preferred observing complete 
secrecy — it always made things more interesting — but 
they were obliged to ask the minister’s wife what day 


A MERE SUGGESTION. 


149 


would suit her best. And then they arranged to get pos- 
session of the parsonage for at least the day before, Mrs. 
Peyton sending her carriage early on Tuesday, with the 
request that the Raynors fill it in a body, and come out 
to “Evergreen ” for a little rest and change. 

“Just the thing,” declared Mrs. Garnett, letting her- 
self and half a dozen conspirators in at the back door, a 
few minutes after the carriage had rolled out of sight. 
“ Just the thing to help her — almost as much as the sew- 
ing. We have all gotten through with our spring clean- 
ing, but poor Mrs. Raynor has not even begun. She is 
much too feeble even to think of such a heavy task. Now, 
why couldn’t we get it all done to-day — every room in 
perfect order — with a little whitewashing, some painting, 
and a good deal of scrubbing and polishing thrown in ? 
There are plenty of us ; and besides, we can each bring a 
servant. What do you say ? ” 

The three girls, Kate Garnett, Flossie Byington, and 
Julia Bentley, who had stolen in behind the older ladies, 
gave three little shrieks of delight, and begged that they 
might be used as servants for once, declaring that they 
liked nothing better than tearing rooms to pieces, for 
the sake of the pleasure of putting them all together 
again. 

And so, while a committee of three in the little sewing 
room upstairs looked over the garments Mrs. Raynor had 
begun to get ready for the machine, and by using them 
as a guide, cut out, basted, and filled a full supply of 
everything for each child, the others had divided their 


1.50 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


forces over the house, and spring cleaning was going on 
in that thorough, painstaking, skillful way the refined 
housekeeper so greatly appreciates and enjoys. 

The girls had taken entire charge of the parlor and 
sitting room, but even when the last touch had been be- 
stowed, and that beautiful order achieved which the ab- 
sent mistress with her cultured taste so loved, they were 
not satisfied. How shabby the old furniture was ! They 
had polished it all till it shone like a mirror ; they had 

done everything possible ; and yet They looked at 

each other and shook their heads. They were not satis- 
fied. These rooms must look better for the occasion of 
to-morrow. They positively must. 

Here their perplexed conference was interrupted by a 
large package and a line from Leslie Hope — only a line : 
“ I send this sofa afghan for the sitting room, with my 
love.” 

There was certainly a charm about that gay, many- 
colored afghan. It seemed to solve all enigmas, present 
the key to all puzzles. For after this the three girls were 
busier than the three Fates. And when the day was 
done and they were going quietly to their own prosperous 
homes, they exchanged smiles and glances of complete 
satisfaction. The rooms were certainly very lovely 
now. 

Vases and dishes of cut flowers were on the mantels 
and tables, and blooming plants and trailing vines filled 
one or more of the deep old-fashioned window seats. The 
hair-cloth sofa, disguised into luxurious elegance by the 


A MERE SUGGESTION. 


151 


new afghan, had also a pair of pillows in olive-green and 
gold. 

I should never have thought to send for them,” Kate 
explained to all questioners, “ but for Leslie’s lovely gift. 
The old one was perfectly hideous by the side of that. It 
was so sweet in her to think of it too, worn out as she is 
by anxiety and nursing.” 

It was Flossie who draped the olive-green scarf over 
the mantel-piece, and left the graceful cover, the same 
shade, with an appliqul border of old gold leaves on the 
centre-table here. 

**They would not be missed at home, and matched 
Kate’s sofa pillow,” she said, simply. 

Julia Bentley had banished the shabby shades from 
the parlor windows, hanging instead Madras muslin, in 
warm, soft tints that lit up all the room. And Mrs. Cecil 
Grant, who had been busy with the cutting-out committee 
until now, had gone away with a thoughtful look on her 
handsome face, when she saw this little change. It sug- 
gested several things she might add, as well as not, to the 
scanty furnishing of the parsonage parlor. So she sent a 
pair of pretty rockers, of ebony wood, lightly gilded, a 
Turkish rug, a bamboo easel to hold a choice engraving, 
and a dainty table of the clover-leaf pattern, then newly 
in vogue. Wasn’t that lovely of her ? 

They made a wonderful change in the parlor too. It 
could be called shabby no longer, but wore now that air 
of quiet dignity and simple elegance that the best room 
of the parsonage should. 


152 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


No wonder the girls went into little spasms of delight 
when the last loving touch had been given. The fragrant 
white spikes of hyacinth which Flossie had placed in the 
pale blue antique jar on the end of the mantel, made the 
room simply perfect, as they declared to each other, 
stepping aside to note the effect by turns. 

“And to think that everything came from Leslie's 
thoughtful gift,” said Kate, with a happy sigh. “ But for 
that, we might have missed all the best part of this day.” 

The work of preparation for the morrow had a second 
new feature suggested by some chance word of Leslie’s — 
this girl who happened so often to think aloud. 

“ There will be so many there,” she had told her mother 
on this eventful Tuesday, after her donation had been sent 
around. “ I don’t believe there will be work enough to 
keep them all busy.” 

“ Why, you said there were piles of things,” suggested 
Mrs. Hope. 

“ So there were — for her. But with four machines and 
some thirty ladies, you see- ” 

“Yes, I see,” said the invalid, turning restlessly on her 
pillow ; “ and I really wish Leslie, do you remem- 

ber the old chest with red drapery in your play room up- 
stairs? Well, just run up and look in that, and bring 
down all those remnants of lawn, pink, blue, and buff. 
They will do nicely for Augusta’s and Clara’s dresses. 
And there are some pieces of white goods, plaid and plain, 
and all sorts of odds and ends of laces and trimmings. 
Make them all into a bundle, and have Ben take it 


A MERE SUGGESTION. 


153 


around to that committee. He needn’t say where it 
came from.” 

Leslie flew to do this task on delighted feet. 

Whether the committee knew where the great parcel 
came from or not, it put a brand new idea into their heads. 
During the remainder of the afternoon, the arrival of do- 
nations in the shape of dry goods was quite a frequent 
occurrence. So many remembered a few yards of this, a 
remnant of that, long on their hands at home, which they 
could spare as well as not ; and a few sent up from the 
store, owned by husband, father, or brother, a bolt of 
cotton, some dress patterns of cool, pretty lawns or cam- 
brics, a bolt of lace, a dozen spools of thread, etc. 

The result of all this caused Mrs. Raynor not only to 
rejoice in an abundant ready-made summer wardrobe for 
herself, as well as the four children, but to feel, for the 
first time in her whole life, the embarrassment of riches. 
She actually had garments to lay by. 

Wednesday was indeed a “white day” to the minister’s 
wife. It was a bright day too — a day to rejoice the hearts 
of men. The subdued light of the April sun rested 
lightly on flower and field, clothed in the fresh beauty of 
the spring, and played hide-and-seek among the branches 
of the magnificent live oaks and clinging ivy which were 
the glory of the old parsonage. 

When she for whom so much had been done in love 
surveyed the bright, fragrant rooms, so beautiful to her 
in their new guise, she looked younger and happier than 
she had done for months. 


154 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


“ They were so pleased to do these things for you, my 
dear,” whispered her husband. “ They don’t think you a 
burden.” 

How she smiled ! She believed him, every word, now. 
There was nothing else for her to do. 

Scraps of gay talk and merry laughter could be heard 
from the rooms where machines and fingers were so busy. 
No, they did not think her a burden. She felt sure that 
their tasks were all of love. 

At two o’clock the whole crowd “ picnicked ” on the 
little lawn overlooked by the parlor windows. Here there 
was much merriment and exchanging of lunches and 
jests, which accounted perhaps in part for the freshness 
and eagerness with which they resumed their work an 
hour later. 

Not till the twilight gloaming had drawn its curtains 
down on the brightness *of this perfect afternoon did these 
busy workers disperse. The sewing bee was over — the 
beautiful white day done. 

Early the next week, Kate Garnett met her friend on 
the street. 

“ Dear me, Leslie Hope ! ” she began. “ I declare I 
don’t see how our church ever did get on without you. 
Why, our pastor’s wife is beginning to get well, at last. 
She rides out every day in Mrs. Cecil Grant’s phseton 
now, and she says since she doesn’t lie awake at night 
wondering how all the children’s clothes are to get made, 
she feels like a new person. And she looks better, as any- 
body can see. She meant to do all the house cleaning 


A MERE SUGGESTION. 


155 


while Mr. Raynor was gone to the convention ; but now, 
since the children and herself had so much given them, 
and the parsonage is as neat as wax, she can afford a little 
trip, and will not be needed at home. So she is just going 
with him. And she is so happy. The convention meets 
in May. And mamma and I are to keep Augusta and 
Clara, and Mrs. Peyton the little boys. And the church 
is going to paint the parsonage while they are away, in 
cream and brown. Isn't that splendid ? And Mr. Cecil 
Grant has given our pastor an order on his own tailor for 
a full suit of clothes. And you have done it all — yes, 
every single bit.” 

Kate was wont to be a little incoherent at times ; but 
this was worse, far worse, than usual. 

Leslie looked at her in undisguised amazement. 

“ What do you mean, Kate ? How can you say I have 
done such things ? ” 

“ Why, you know you got up that sewing concern for 
Mrs. Raynor. That started the whole thing — everything. 
I have not told you one-half it did start,” said her friend. 

Tears sprang to Leslie’s eyes. 

“ You have gotten it all wrong, Kate dear. I meant 
to have planned that day of sewing, but ended by doing 
nothing at all. Mother was so ill, I could not leave her 
for an hour. I wanted to help poor Mrs. Raynor, yet I 
only made a suggestion to you — a mere suggestion.” 

“Well, all I know,” went on Kate, laughing blithely, 
“ is that there must be a beginning to things ; and in this 
instance, it* was you, who builded better than you knew. 


156 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


There is a great deal of truth in these lightly spoken 
words : 

“ Never are kind acts done 

To wipe some weeping eyes, 

But, like flashes of the sun. 

They signal to the skies ; 

For the common plans of the common day 
Are ringing hells in the far away.” 


CHAPTER XIIL 


STILL BILL. 

T DO not think there was a busier, or happier girl in 
all Ashland than Leslie Hope, these balmy days in 
early June. 

For June — that lovely, leafy month, with its ferns and 
flowers, its wilderness of roses, its 

Spaces of silence, swept by song — 

Spaces where myriad creatures throng, 

Deeper than hunter’s trail hath gone, — 

had come to the world again. Leslie had been in society 
a whole year. She did not find a great deal of time for 
it, — that is, in the sense in which that much-abused word 
is often used, — but she was certainly a very popular girl. 
She had plenty of friends, of the true, earnest sort. In- 
tellectual people too, felt a strong admiration for this 
bright, thinking young lady. She was much sought after 
by certain select literary clubs and Chautauqua Circles, 
just then rather the order of the day in Ashland. And 
Leslie rated mind culture much too high not to appreciate 
her opportunities, and was glad to belong to such organi- 
zations, though she would never be exactly a literary 
person. There were other things she cared for far more 
deeply — the cultivation of the heart, for example ; the 
‘‘fruits of the Spirit, ’ enumerated by Paul, — ^though the 

167 


158 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


child did not call them by that name, — and the ministry 
of good, brave, helpful deeds, which had brought her the 
most satisfying pleasure her life had known. For the 
humblest of these, the very simplest and commonest, had 
been glorified by her Master’s approving smile sometimes, 
when she had done her best to please him. 

And Leslie had not yet realized that her womanhood was 
lacking in that one gift needed to make it complete, well 
rounded, and perfect. She had not discovered for herself 
the full meaning of love. There had been no time for 
lovers and falling in love, she explained — not that she 
meant to be an old maid, oh, no ! 

“ Come he slow, or come he fast, 

Love is sure to come at last,” 

she sang gayly. The half-forgotten, short-lived episode 
of Carrol Mather’s offer did not count. Little did she 
dream that real love was to come to her soon — real, if 
humble — and in such a strangely pathetic guise, that 
Leslie’s tender young heart was the sorer for it ever after- 
ward. The rest might laugh to scorn, and cover with 
ridicule, — which indeed many of her friends, looking on, 
did, her brothers included, — but it was alien to her gentle 
nature to feel anything but the deepest pity for this poor 
young man— Leslie Hope’s first lover. 

Among other kinds of Christian work in which she 
took a deep interest, and a leading part as well, was the 
Society of Christian Endeavor, that embraced in its 
growing membership most of the young people of the 


STILL BILL. 


169 


Garrison Street Church, and a number of outsiders, who 
did not belong to any of the churches in the city. 

The society held its weekly meetings late on Sunday 
afternoons in the pleasant, social-looking chapel used for 
the Sunday-school and prayer meeting. And here the 
president, Mr. Henry Richardson, brought, on a bright 
June Sunday, as a new member, a tall, gawky youth, all 
hands and feet, who stood waiting in bashful misery till 
an introduction or two had been given, and the semicircle 
ranged before the platform enlarged to admit him. 

How exceedingly incongruous his presence there among 
those gayly clad girls, and those young society men, with 
gallant, well-bred graces ! 

Wherever this poor, awkward fellow might fit in or 
harmonize, it surely was not there ; and even the presi- 
dent, who had looked him up, brought him in, and pre- 
sented his name for membership, felt that he had made a 
mistake. He led the devotional exercises of the meeting 
with an air anxious and preoccupied. 

Yet this Christian society had for its covenant, “just 
as far as he knows how, throughout his whole life, to try 
and lead a Christian life,” and claimed to be merely “ the 
church at work ” for the help and development of the 
younger members. 

Were any to be turned away from such a society as 
this because of awkward manners and uncouth dress ? 
Were such as this forlorn stranger to be frowned upon 
w'ho needed help and encouragement to lead an earnest 
Christian life? 


160 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


These were some of the questions he was asking him- 
self, as he read the selection of Scripture from the presi- 
dent’s chair on the platform. 

There was another person, who was answering them — 
in a way far more to the purpose. 

Leslie Hope happened to occupy the very next seat to 
the one hastily placed for Mr. Patterson, the new-comer 
of whom we have spoken, and Henry Richardson noticed, 
with a glance of decided relief, that she was doing all 
the honors of the occasion with her usual thoroughbred 
politeness. 

She had already given, even in that first moment, a 
kindly welcome to the stranger. But to shake hands, 
to smile, to find the hymn and share her book with him, 
were not enough, she fancied, to make him feel altogether 
at home among them. She thought a little kindness on 
the part of others should be bestowed. But there was 
no response to the mute appeal she telegraphed with her 
eyes to Kate and Flossie, near by. They seemed to share 
the cold, ungracious spirit that pervaded the society at 
the entrance of the forlorn intruder. 

What if he should feel the unsympathetic atmosphere 
and be repelled ? What if he should come no more to 
the meetings? 

But he did come. He was a few moments late, how- 
ever, on the next Sunday afternoon, and the secretary 
paused when he came to his name on the roll-call. 

“You mean ‘Still Bill,’ don’t you, Wyvern?” asked 
one, in a loud whisper. 


STILL BILL. 


161 


“How can you be so unkind?” remonstrated Leslie, 
who sat next. “ Suppose he should be coming in? Poor 
young man ! How frail he looks, and what a pathetic 
face he has I I wonder if he is a Christian? We all 
ought to be kind to him, to help him in every way that 
is possible. I mean to. I am sure he will feel it if we 
are rude or thoughtless,” she went on, with eyes downcast. 
“ And why should any of us call him ‘ Still Bill ’ ? He 
has a name — a plain, honest name.” 

“ He answers to that fast enough. It is, I think, about 
the only one he has in the shop where he works. It was 
‘ Still Bill ’ on every side when I happened to step in 
there the other day. But if you object. Miss Leslie, 
why ” 

The speaker broke off, looking in her grave, dark eyes 
with just a perceptible sneer. She was just like the rest 
— this girl — willing to be admired by even this uncouth, 
clumsy stranger. 

But he was wrong, quite wrong. Never once, either 
then or afterward, did Leslie dream what fire she was 
kindling when she was kind to this poor boy. From first 
to last, she thought only of him — how to help him, how to 
make him happier. Not of herself, and the lesson she 
was teaching him to learn so surely and rapidly. 

The old, old lesson of loving. 

But no harm — only a fitful flash of beautiful joy — came 
of her ignorance, the blindness of her unseeing eyes. She 
had that to comfort her, at the least, poor child. 

L 


162 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


“ William Patterson is a thorough gentleman at heart, 
Clarendon,” said Elric Hardy, who was sitting near by, 
hunting out references for the lesson. He is slow and 
dull. I don’t deny that ; and you may not admire his 
wasted looks, which are the fault of inherited consumption, 
poor lad ! But I know him pretty well. My office is 
next door but one to his shop, and I feel sure that he is 
one of the best fellows in the world. Ah, here he 
comes. And upon my word, he has gotten himself up 
regardless ! ” 

The young man had indeed made a remarkable toilet, 
and it was pitiful to Leslie, if not to others, to note the 
pleasure he took in his brave attire. The truth was, Mr. 
Patterson had felt out of harmony with his surroundings 
at the previous meeting. He felt a certain out-in-the-cold 
place accorded him. He wanted to be at home with the 
society which the president had so kindly induced him to 
join. The young gentlemen whom he had met there had 
a certain look that he resolv^ed to imitate. He could not 
bear to think that the pretty, brown-eyed young lady who 
had been “ so heavenly good ” to him might be ashamed 
of his shabby clothes — might not even wish to get better 
acquainted. That would be terrible. Perhaps his failure 
to make friends since his coming to the city, some six 
months ago, was due to that old, worn, threadbare suit. 
And so he had spent more than a month’s wages, going 
almost without food or lights, to buy the new suit, with 
necktie to match. 

She would be surprised — even pleased, perhaps — to see 


STILL BILL. 


163 


him come in, dressed like the rest. Ah, it was a dear 
hope to the boy. 

Mr. Patterson made his way, awkwardly enough in 
spite of the new clothes, toward a vacant seat near Leslie, 
who gave him her hand with such a smile that left nothing 
to be desired. 

He was no fool, this rustic stranger, and kept his eyes 
and ears well open, though he said so little that his fel- 
lows in the shop had changed the name William Patter- 
son into “ Still Bill.” 

He responded cheerfully on this occasion to the presi- 
dent’s request that he would serve on the “ lookout com- 
mittee ” for the next month, and asked, in a quiet, gentle- 
manly tone, to have the duties explained to him. And 
Leslie and Kate, who were themselves “ on duty. ” in 
the task of looking out for the sick, poor, or absentees 
in the city, found in^the new member an efficient, sensible 
helper. 

Leslie loved such work. It suited her earnest, ener- 
getic spirit, and brought into play those forces of character 
which so many girls squander upon fashion and society. 
But Kate, gay, fun-loving, winsome Kate, was living in a. 
sweet, bewildering, unreal dream, these June days. 
Light as she seemed, her heart was no sham, but thor- 
oughly true and warm to its core; and that was why 
Leslie loved her. Somebody else loved her too, and far 
better; and to him — a young Baptist minister, just 
through his course at the seminary and settled in his first 
charge — she was to be married in another month. There 


164 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


was to be no splendid show about the ceremony to take 
place in her own church, with the friends of her pure, 
sweet girlhood about her ; and as she was going to be a 
poor man’s wife, a grand trousseau would be not only un- 
necessary, but extremely inappropriate. Still, Kate 
plunged with a certain demure pride and delight into the 
.mysteries of a bridal outfit and all those interesting pre- 
parations for the wedding, which have such a charm for 
old and young, friend or stranger, the world over. And 
the “ lookout committee ” work would have been left in 
the lurch but for Leslie Hope and Mr. Patterson, who 
saw a great deal more of each other as a consequence. 

With the passing weeks a certain subtle but distinct 
change came over the young man’s face. “ Still Bill ” 
began to look' the gentleman, in spite of his striking toi- 
lets. Disease was refining his features, and giving to his 
large eyes and sunken cheeks a strange, pathetic beauty. 
He got his breath in a quick pant at times now, and the 
fateful hectic that came and went on Helen Montgomery’s 
lovely face, Leslie saw, with a deep pang of distress, steal- 
ing to his, with its unmistakable premonition of sivift 
decay. 

He never complained, and she knew next to nothing of 
his life apart from the weekly meetings and occasional 
errands which he reported upon to her in his timid, hesi- 
tating way. He sat in their pew on Sundays now, at the 
invitation of Deacon Hope ; and from the simple details 
of her own lovely, harmonious dress — or from something 
—his own taste in dress underwent a change. The En- 


STILL BILL. 


165 


deavor saw no more the gaudy necktie and flaming hand- 
kerchief he had sported at first. Even the suit of startling 
blue had been replaced by one any gentleman might wear. 

He became a welcome visitor at the parsonage too, 
Leslie having called the pastor’s attention to the lonely 
stranger, whose health was so rapidly failing. Here he 
used his tongue in such eager fashion, when entertaining 
the little Raynors with stories of his old home among the 
Kentucky mountains, that the adjective “Still” was a 
genuine misnomer. To the minister he confided some- 
thing of his past life ; how he had been baptized and 
joined the church — the little log schoolhouse on “Wild- 
cat Ridge” — and the unhappy doubts that beset him 
afterward. 

“ But they don’t trouble me now,” he had added, with 
his quick pant and feverish flush, that said nothing would 
trouble him long here. “ It was the young lady’s way — 
Miss Hope, you know — of being so sure and certain about 
Christ that put me studying just him. There’s something 
mighty satisfying in that, isn’t there, sir ? I know now 
that my soul has been redeemed. She sings a wonderful 
pretty song about it. I heard her one night, at the 
meeting.” 

Leslie was absent from the next gathering of the En- 
deavor young people, and it so happened that she saw 
nothing of Mr. Patterson for nearly two weeks. It was 
the day before the annual picnic, which the Garrison 
Street Church always made as delightful as possible to its 
Sunday-school, that she met him on the street. . She was 


166 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


shocked at the great change that had taken place in this 
brief time. He was very thin and haggard now, and his 
eyes had a restless look, as if he was pursued by one re- 
lentless thought which conquered him against his will. 
He showed a child’s eager, unconcealed delight at the 
sight of her face. His voice trembled with emotion and 
pleasure. But Leslie only said to her pitying heart: 
“ Poor fellow ! How anxious he seems to make friends ! 
I wish the other girls would be kinder to him. I will be, 
at least, always glad to speak to him — which is more than 
they are.” Then she told him about the picnic, and in- 
sisted that he should get leave of absence from the shop 
so that he could attend. He certainly needed a holiday. 
And the boy watched her out of sight, a strange light in 
his sunken eyes when she had said “ good-bye.” 

Fern Grove, whose lovely grounds had been selected 
for the picnic of the morrow, was the fairest spot about 
Ashland. There was a long emerald slope, studded with 
pines, through which the light June airs went softly stray- 
ing. The sun shone through the green arcades and over 
the winding foot-paths, where the merry company strolled 
at will. White blossoms shone like stars here and there, 
while the overhanging branches seemed to speak a wel- 
come to the glad little ones passing beneath. To many 
of these, even the sight of the wild wood beauty was a 
rare privilege ; and among this number was Mr. Patter- 
son. For nearly a year he had served a stern, hard mas- 
ter from six to six, six days out of seven, and of late his 
failing strength had been unequal to his tasks. He had 


STILL BILL. 


167 


never had one holiday before to-day. He confided this 
last fact to Miss Hope, in his timid, patient way, adding 
humbly : 

“ Perhaps that’s one reason I ain’t made some friends — 
that and being so diflTerent from the other fellows, stupid 
and dull, you know.” 

Leslie looked at him through a sudden mist of tears. It 
had been just as she fancied. The boy had pined for 
friends. He should have some. She would see to it. And 
he should have too, one thoroughly bright and happy day, 
if no more. She would devote the whole time to him. And 
her active brain began devising all sorts of special treats 
and pleasures for him. She would satisfy his longing for 
recognition — he should be one of them. And she under- 
took, this strange girl, to establish his popularity. He 
should be sought after, honored, made much of. Oh, 
she would manage things. And she was a wily little 
schemer, this same Leslie ! Otherwise she would never 
have attempted to bring this awkward friend of hers to 
the front. 

“ Come with me,” she said, with a pretty imperious- 
ness. “ I want some of my friends to be introduced to 
you.” 

And so he followed her to the spot — as he would gladly 
have followed her anywhere — at the foot of the hill near 
by. It was an open, level square of sward, and eager 
hands were busy with tennis, croquet sets, etc. Among 
the trees on their right, swings and hammocks were wait- 
ing. At a word from her, Mr. Patterson soon had the 


1G8 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


hammocks safely moored to the shadiest of oaks ; and up 
went the fascinating rope swings by magic. Who could 
have imagined him so sure and deft? 

By this time there were coquettish demands and smiling 
appeals made on all sides to the new young man who had 
been so useful, “just the fellow for picnics,” from the 
girls, and a sort of adoption into good comradeship of 
“ Miss Leslie’s protege,” from the boys. Ah, how happy 
all this made him. Surely he was to have friends now, 
like the rest. Such bright, clever, kind-spoken friends ! 
He had a day never to be forgotten. When gone, its 
blissful memories clung to him while he lived. 

“You’ve had a happy day, I hope,” Leslie called to 
him, kindly, at the breaking up and going away. 

“It will last me all my life,” he answered, smiling. 
Then he went away too, to the poor little room he called 
home. 

To this place Leslie was sent for a few days after, one 
of the boys in the shop bringing the message that “ Still 
Bill was a-dyin’.” 

She folded her work away — a cloud of tulle, in which 
she was running a thread of silk, Kate Garnett’s bridal 
veil and she was to be married to-morrow evening — and 
asking her brother Edwin to come with her, she went at 
once. 

But the dying man was unconscious of her presence. 
Nobody could call him “ still ” now. He was talking in- 
cessantly of one day — “ such a happy day ! ” He seemed 
to forget his blank, colorless past, and lived only in this. 


STILL BILL. 


169 


Leslie thanked God, while her hot tears fell like rain 
over the restless hand she held in hers, that he would be 
satisfied with the immortal love and unfading friendships 
of the eternal home where he was going. 

She came to this poor little room the next evening, 
straight from Kate’s marriage, gowned herself, like a 
bride, in purest white. But there was an awful silence 
here. 

“Still Bill’s” murmurings of trees and ferns, forest 
glen and the girl who had been so kind to him and made 
him know what love was, were all over. He roused at 
the last, and something like consciousness returned to the 
dim eyes. 

“ It is all love there,” he whispered, brokenly. 

Then the life that knew so little of love here went out 
on the breath that murmured such words as “Jesus,” 
“ redeemed.” His timid, pathetic wish for friends, had 
been granted for one day through the kindness of the girl 
he loved, and the memory brought a great peace to that 
humble, simple spirit. “ Still Bill ” died content. 

Over his face, with its sharpened outline, there had 
come a look of infinite calm, which Leslie had never seen 
there till now. 

Death had touched him very gently, 

And he lay as if asleep. 

She had brought a cluster of roses, pure and perfect, 
from her friend’s wedding, and these she still held in her 
hand, as the pastor’s wife and she stood together, looking 
down uU the quiet face. 


170 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


Oh, Mrs. Raynor ! ” she exclaimed, in her sweet, im- 
pulsive way, “ isn’t it sad that there is no one to kiss him 
good-bye? You see he hasn’t a single relative or close 
friend except ” — she hesitated, and her eyes filled with 
sorrowful tears once more — “ except us. He liked me, 
and I tried to be kind to him. Might I not give him 
one kiss — since there is nobody else — ^as a sister, you 
know ? ” 

Mrs. Raynor nodded. She was too much moved to 
speak. And the girl pressed her warm lips to his brow, 
tenderly, lingeringly; then she put her white roses in 
the pulseless hand, and went away. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


A TIME OF PERIL. 

I T was one of those glorious afternoons not rare in 
autumn, if it happen to be October, and the region 
the far South, among the mountains. 

The miracle of the sunset can never grow old any- 
where ; but here, in this mountain city, where the sun 
crimsons first the rugged peaks far away, and then cliff 
and chasm, leaving at last the whole valley flooded with 
golden light — it is a vision always new. 

Among those who watched it with intense enjoyment 
on this particular evening, were two young girls who sat 
together on a rustic-looking porch, over which a luxuri- 
ant Madeira vine had trailed its wealth of green and 
plumy blossoms 

The house itself was a low-ceiled, old-fashioned cottage, 
evidently built when the growing, prosperous city was but 
a village, and left as a sort of landmark by one who 
held it too dear perhaps, to let it be torn away. But the 
odd little house, with its square windows and heavy doors, 
looked like a home, which was more than could be said 
of the costly piles of brick and stone on either side that 
shut it in. 

“ You know I always meant to have you as my first 
guest, Leslie,’' the taller, darker of the two was saying, 

171 


172 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


in a tone of voice just a trifle more subdued than Kate 
Garnett’s used to be when she was the life and wit of her 
circle in the old home in Ashland. “ Don’t you remember 
how I was forever planning, even when I was just ‘sweet 
sixteen,’ what I would do when I had a home of my very 
own? Now that the day has really come, and I am 
sure enough the ‘ mistress of the manse ’ with this dear 
little home, things are nothing like my early fancies ; we 
ourselves are different, and yet, Leslie dear, I am per- 
fectly happy.” 

“ And ought to be, I am sure, my dear Mrs. Newman. 
I expect to have a splendid m nth myself. I feel it 
here,” said Leslie Hope, pressing her hand to her heart 
with a tragic gesture; “and there is something quite 
idyllic for a denizen of this busy, bustling world to 
come to a place as I came here, solely to have a good time, 
to enjoy myself in that thoroughly idle, irresponsible 
fashion that our wise old doctor declared to be the one 
thing needed by an overworked, out-of-sorts, run-down- 
generally young person like myself. I am willing to 
take his advice for once. I am pining, actually pining, 
for a little solitude, for a few days of quiet ‘ communion 
with nature,’ and some other restful pleasures after my 
own heart. And I firmly believe that I shall get exactly 
what I want, what I came for, here.” 

And she looked about her at the great city, with its 
many lights flashing up here and there, and then at the 
strange solitude of the suburb in which her friends lived. 
She heaved a complacent, satisfied little sigh. 


A TIME OF PERIL. 


173 


AVell, I am glad indeed to hear you say so,” said 
Kate. “ We are so new to the city, such strangers, you 
know, and our dear, ugly little parsonage is in such a 
stately, unfriendly quarter, that I felt it was selfish in us 
to ask you to come now, but I at least, couldn’t wait. I 
just longed to have you come and see for yourself what 
my new life as a city pastor’s wife is like ; what our 
first home has become since we turned our hands to its 
transformation ; and more than all, Leslie Hope, I 
wanted you to know my husband.” 

“ How strange to think you married a minister, Kate ! 
Did you ever dream of doing that in those old-time 
visions of yours ? ” 

“Not once!” she declared, laughingly, “ and particu- 
larly such a minister as mine. Just through the semi- 
nary, an empty purse, only one ‘call,’ and that to a 
church struggling for existence. But you know I had 
not seen Robert then. How late he is, by the way, this 
evening.” 

And she looked a little anxiously, after the manner of 
fond young wives, — and old ones too, for that matter, — 
up and down the street. 

The click of the gate latch in the bit of side yard put 
an end to their waiting. 

“ How late you are, Robert I ” exclaimed the young 
wife, springing to meet her husband and clinging to him 
for an instant. “ And how tired you look too ! Is any- 
thing wrong ? Has anything happened ? ” 

The Rev. Robert Newman was a tall, well-made man, 


174 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


with a rather handsome face, a fine forehead, very frank 
blue eyes, and a peculiarly bright and winning smile. He 
was much given to smiling too, at least in these early 
months of his new happiness, and even Leslie, whose 
acquaintance with her old friend’s husband was limited 
to the marriage day and her present visit to the parson- 
age, felt the charm of it. And she had fancied it a gen- 
uine help to him as he moved among his people. 

But Leslie noticed in quick surprise how stern and set 
his lips were, even when he stooped to kiss his wife. 
His face too was pale and grave. The tired look, which 
Kate had seen, seemed to have deepened, even in that 
moment of greeting, into one of intense anxiety. She 
was sure it required an effort of the will for him to 
speak cheerfully in answer to his wife’s eager questions. 

“ I am a little tired, I think. I have had a long tramp 
this afternoon, and talked to a good many people — too 
many, perhaps. But nothing has happened that I did 
not know before.” 

Then he spoke some kindly words of gentle courtesy 
to their young guest, and the three went in to tea together. 
They were scarcely seated when the old fashioned gong 
on the front door sounded through the house. “ There 
was a man dying in the house on the corner, two doors 
below the parsonage, and the minister was wanted at 
once,” said the messenger. 

Two physicians were already in the room when Mr. 
Newman entered, and a third coming a few moments later, 
they began a whispered consultation. 


A TIME OF PERIL. 


175 


In the same small room where the dying man lay, were 
two more patients on another bed, a woman and child. 
There was a sickening odor in the atmosphere, not over- 
come by various disinfectants. The dying man was even 
now beyond all mortal power to help or comfort, and 
the minister turned to the physicians. 

“ Do you still call this fever, typhus ? ” he asked, 
gravely. 

“Well, no! not exactly,” said one of the trio, briskly. 
“ We regard the peculiar type found in one or two families 
as ” 

“ I have seen eight or ten patients to-day, myself,” said 
Mr. Newman, too anxious to be careful of his manners, 
“ and in every instance the disease looks like yellow fever. 
I believe it is.” 

“ Yellow fever I ” cried the oldest of the three, in great 
surprise. “ Why, my dear sir, you do not believe a case 
of genuine yellow fever could develop in this pure atmos- 
phere — this mountain region of country, in the very 
shadow of old ‘ Lookout ’ ? Our mayor himself was say- 
ing only yesterday, sir, that a few imported cases would 
only advertise the wonderful purity and healthfulness of 
our mountain city. He said ” 

‘‘ That we had already had ‘ a few imported cases ’ ? 
That is true, but I didn’t think the people knew it.” 

“ There was no need that they should know it. We feel 
entirely secure from the pestilence which is ravaging New 
Orleans, Memphis, Savannah, and other places. There is 
no reason why any should feel the smallest apprehension 


176 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


here. But you are a stranger, new to our climate, and 
perhaps it is natural that you should be a trifle uneasy — 
suspicious. It is, however, needless, quite so, to have the 
least fear.” 

“ I have been through two epidemics of yellow fever 
and know something of the disease,” said the pastor, 
quietly. “ This may be, as you say, only typhus, but it 
is certainly in a very fatal form, and it is spreading.” 

But it is not yellow fever, whatever it is doing or 
may do ! That is the only point we make,” said the same 
speaker, indicating his associates by a comprehensive 
gesture. “ And you, my dear sir, will be laughing over 
such idle fears in a day or two. I assure you that there 
is not a shadow of danger.” 

Mr. Newman said no more, and having done the little 
in his power for the stricken family, he went home. 

“ They may be right,” he told his deeply anxious heart, 
as he opened the door of his peaceful, happy little home. 
“ They ought to know. But something makes me feel 
that they are wrong — wrong. God help us all, if they 
are ! for with the best we can do, the peril will be great.” 

As the days went by, however, Mr. Newman heard 
nothing to increase his anxiety. There were no new 
cases, and some of the sick had lived through the crisis 
and were considered convalescent. 

Leslie and Kate were making the most of the sunny 
autumn weather, devoting the perfect days to delighted 
sight-seeing and each other. They had enjoyed every 
fine view in and around the picturesque city, lunched on 


A TIME OF PERIL. 


177 


Cameron Hill, picnicked at Blowing Spring ; had joined 
a congenial party of tourists in a day’s roving amid the 
wonders of the mountain top, had camped out on the 
winding trail of a lofty ridge and, best of all, had spent 
two Utopian days in a rambling old ruin known as 
“Castle Dangerous,” and given out as haunted, near 
Talulah Lake, on a distant spur of Lookout. 

“ My cup is full, Kate,” Leslie had announced, when 
she reached this enchantingly lovely spot. 

“Well, you said you came to have a good time,” 
returned her friend, laughing at the serio-comic tone 
and air ; “ and this is, I admit, a beautiful, restful, kind 
of place. I don’t wonder that you feel happy, dear. If 
Robert ” 

“ But I have no ‘ Robert ’ to miss or to sigh for, so i 
am quite content.” 

. “ I wonder if Robert will ever be able to take a cottage 
for the summer in this ‘land of the sky’? Wouldn’t 
that be splendid ? Ah, I would love to live up here ! ” 
said young Mrs. Kewman, with enthusiasm. 

“ Do you know, Kate,” Leslie began, “ that I have an 
impression, presentiment — what you will — some confused, 
indefinable vision, that we will come here again, to this 
very spot, when everything is changed — we, ourselves, 
the most of all, — our light thoughts gone, our future and 

past strangely blended, and our lives But I can see 

no farther. What do you make of such fancies as 
these ? ” 

“ The vagaries of a very hungry girl, nothing more ! ” 
M 


178 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


But Leslie watched her spreading the abundant, dainty 
luncheon on a natural table of rock, with a shadow rest- 
ing on the brightness of her young face. By the time, 
however, that Kate had returned from “ Lost Spring,” 
near by, with a pitcher of delicious water, she was quite 
her own gay self again. The shadow was gone. 

It was late in the evening before they reached home. 
Mrs. Newman was greatly shocked to find her husband 
ill, and that was not all. The wildest excitement pre- 
vailed throughout the city. The presence of that terrible 
pestilence which had been ravaging the western and ex- 
treme southern parts of the State could no longer be con- 
cealed or denied. Since yesterday at noon, yellow fever 
had been publicly declared epidemic, and a panic-stricken 
multitude was leaving with all speed the plague-smitten 
place. What sad changes these two bright autumn days 
had witnessed. How heavy and dark was this shadow 
of death settling down upon the prosperity and beauty of 
the mountain city, teeming with life and industries, the 
home of so many thousands ! What changes at once be- 
came imperious in many a plan ! How hopes and ex- 
pectations were at once shut in ! The black cloud settled 
down upon them all, and what there was for them within 
its dark folds none could tell. 

“ Kate, my poor wife ! ” exclaimed Mr. Newman, raising 
himself up as the two entered, and speaking in a thick, un- 
natural voice : “ The yellow fever has come, as I feared. 
It is already epidemic in nearly every ward in the city, 
our own included. I tried to get word to you both yester- 


A TIME OP PERIL. 


179 


day and to-day, but the panic was too great, too dreadful. 
You must go away — go to night! There is not one 
moment to lose. For God’s sake, listen to me, Kate! 
The night express will leave in twenty minutes. Here 
is money — all I could get together. Take it, buy your 
tickets and get your places in the car at once. Thousands 
will be going, and the rush and crush will be terrible. 
But you must go, you and Leslie. Go to Ashland. 
Never mind your clothes, or anything. Only go ! ” 

** Are you going too ? ” asked his wife. The tone of 
her voice was calm, but her face was white. 

‘‘I will stay, of course. You know that.” 

“ Then I will stay too.” 

“ Impossible ! All the other ministers have already sent 
their families out to places of safety. You cannot — must; 
not stay in such danger. Take Leslie, we are responsible 
for her care and well-being, and go ! For the love of 
heaven, Kate, obey me, only this once ! I will never ask 
it of you again, but you must go ! Think of the risk you 
are taking in lingering. Every moment is so precious, 
and I am not well, and can’t help you as I wish. Kate, 
my darling, how can I make you go ? ” 

You can’t. My place is with you.” 

There was a sudden relaxing of the tense lines of the 
minister’s face, and he fell back unconscious on the pil- 
lows. A physician was entering the house at this moment, 
as if he knew there was need of him at the parsonage. 

“ He is one of the many fever patients stricken down on 
yesterday,” he said, a little carelessly. Of course this 


180 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


young wife and her friend knew it. His was that fearful 
type of the disease that is alarming and dangerous, even 
from the first. In a little while he would be raving in 
delirium, as so many others were. 

“ Leslie, darling,” pleaded Kate, with her stony face, 
as the two clung for one moment together in the presence 
of this deadly peril, their first great crisis of danger, 
“ there is still a chance for you to catch that fast express, 
and there is the midnight passenger, the east-bound ; you 
can take that and go to Ashland. Oh, Leslie Hope, don’t 
make my trouble more than I can bear ! What will your 
old father say to me, what will your poor mother, who 
worships you so, say to me, if I do not make you go, and 
go at once ? ” 

“ This is only the beginning of the epidemic, Kate. 
Just now there are plenty of doctors and nurses, but after 
a while you may need me. You are alone and among 
strangers.” 

She stopped at a certain piteous cry from the young 
wife, and then went on even more calmly : 

“ Your husband may be ill several weeks, Kate. What 
if you should fall ill too ? I have been exposed already, 
as that doctor declares this to be the centre of the worst 
infected ward in the fever districts. I shall stay.” 

This was the girl who had come to have a good time, 
to enjoy herself in an idle, irresponsible fashion. Yet she 
saw now that she must be about her Father’s business. 

The anxieties and sorrows of years seemed crowded 
into the next few days. The pestilence made such swift 


A TIME OF PERIL. 


181 


inroads, that it was impossible to depopulate the city- 
before it had gained a firm foothold. The great mills and 
busy factories were motionless, as were the vast foundries ; 
the stores — all business houses, indeed, were closed ; the 
churches were unopened, the streets silent and deserted, and 
the black pall and gloom of death enfolded all. Several 
deserted houses in the suburbs had been converted into 
temporary hospitals for the many fever victims having 
nowhere to go, and these were overflowing with the sick, 
dying, and dead. Two of the pastors were dead and one 
or two had fled for safety, but the remaining ones stood 
bravely and fearlessly at the post of duty, helping the 
destitute, nursing the sick, burying the dead. 

On the tenth day of illness, .Mr. Newman’s life was^ 
despaired of. The doctor, a kind old man, if a little 
brusque, called Miss Hope aside, said : 

“ My dear young lady,” he began, “ Mr. Newman is — 
well, we’ll say a great deal worse, and his wife is taking 
the fever in the same sudden and violent form. Now, 
what do you mean to do ? ” 

The girl’s heart gave a great throb. 

“ Why, I mean to stand by them till — till the last.” 

“ Very well ; but there are some trying times ahead of 
you, child. Don’t forget that ! ” 

“ I know it. I’ll not forget ! ” 

“ If we could save them now, but ” 

“Oh, doctor, we must save them! God will help 


But I want you to help me 1 ” 


182 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


“ I will. Oh, I will every minute ! Only tell me what 
I can do.” 

And he told her. And that brave girl at once set to 
work to obey him. There was a vast store of undeveloped 
strength in this seemingly frail girl. The heroic element 
was as strong in her as the imaginative. And then she 
had learned to wait on God. So now, summoning all her 
resolution and breathing a prayer to God, she essayed her 
terrible task. 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE PLAGUE. 

I^EVER will the people of our sunny Southland for- 
get the direful days, dark with death’s eclipse, the 
woeful nights when terror stalked abroad, and horror 
walked everywhere among those smitten homes in which 
love and life locked arms in sleep and waked no more. 

The year 1878 will be remembered always for the terri- 
ble devastation which the pestilence caused. Besides the 
suffering and death it occasioned, there was a wide-spread 
destitution, dreadful to contemplate, difficult to relieve. 
Thousands who had lived on their wages were now out 
of employment, wholly dependent during all these dark 
and perilous weeks on public charity. They must be fed, 
clothed, provided for. * But how ? Thanks be to God for 
the one rift in the black cloud lowering above them. 

From every side, North, South, East, and West, as from 
one people, came testimonials of sympathy, noble charity, 
generous aid, pouring in upon the plague-smitten cities a 
very avalanche of benefactions ! 

How these kindly gifts sustained and cheered those 
brave, undaunted souls, who stood with heroic fortitude 
in the midst of the direst danger, nursing the sick, sooth- 
ing the dying, burying the dead, and feeding the multi- 
tude of destitute in the cities and camps around them. Ah, 

183 


184 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


the Southern people of those stricken regions have never 
forgotten those benefactions. A nation once severed had 
met and joined hands around the bed of the sick and 
dying, and national unity was cemented by the “ touch 
of nature which makes all the world kin.’* 

Although the mountain city was said to be deserted, 
almost depopulated, there were enough inhabitants re- 
maining to keep up a daily death rate, large, increasing, 
that carried consternation to the stoutest heart. A start- 
ling proportion of those who were stricken, died. Many 
too, who had gone out with the thousands into exile had 
been overtaken as they fled, and graves by the wayside 
quickly multiplied. 

A number who might have escaped, perhaps, suc- 
cumbed to that mortal terror which is ever fatal in the 
presence of epidemics, and died suddenly and violently in 
raving delirium. 

This was the condition of afiairs late in October. And 
yet the sunny days of the idle, languorous, beautiful In- 
dian summer’ lingered on among the mountains, now gay 
with rainbow foliage. How the people longed for them 
to go; and for the cool, clear nights that hinted of 
wintry weather and hoarfrost to come, 

At whose chill touch the pestilence would fly. 

But suns rose and set, and still the days of autumn 
dragged themselves along, and were still very fair and 
soft. 

But it came at last — the blessed frost. One morning 


THE PLAGUE. 


185 


as Leslie kept watch beside Kate Newman’s bed, she felt 
sure that it had come. It was hardly yet dawn. But 
the air was hushed and chill, and the wan Sufferer, who 
sometimes slept heavily toward morning, lay quiet and 
still among her pillows. 

Leslie crept softly to the window, her heart full almost 
to bursting with hope and suspense. 

Ah, it was there — the frost. Such a sparkling, silvery, 
gem-like frost, more precious than the glittering sheen of 
diamonds, more lovely than an angel from the skies, 
God’s special messenger from heaven. Surely the plague 
would now be stayed. 

Long and tearfully did this brave girl gaze on the 
white dawn without, and prayed, as never in her young 
life she had prayed before. Mr. Newman, though long 
since passed the crisis, his robust health and unweakened 
energies being on the winning side, was very slowly re- 
covering. He was yet too weak, in too great danger of 
the fatal relapse, so common among the fever victims, 
for Leslie to lean upon in this extreme hour. It would be 
certain death, besides, to let him know the truth — that 
his young wife’s life was ebbing away on the turning tide 
of the pestilence. And so Leslie kept her long, sorrow- 
ful night vigil by the unconscious sufferer s bed alone. 
Nurses were far too precious, too difficult to obtain, for 
one to be here, sharing the anxieties and responsibilities 
of her lonely watch. 

Never had doctors a more faithful ally than she. 
Daily she listened with all her prayerful young soul in 


186 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


her eyes to the long, full directions left by them, and 
carried them out herself to the letter. But in spite of all 
that loving self-abnegation could do or suggest, Kate — 
merry, winsome, loving Kate, her girlhood’s friend — 
seemed slipping away. It was hard, and the girl often 
bowed her bright head in bitter weeping when there were 
none to see and pity her save God. But she did not 
mean to give up yet. She meant to watch, to pray, to 
struggle on while Kate Newman lay in the very border 
land “ of the valley and the shadow of death.” 

And then — oh, it was a day in Leslie Hope’s life to be 
marked with a white, white stone — the old doctor who 
had been wuth them from the first, took her hand in his 
and said, with some tears in his eyes of real heart-felt joy : 

“ My brave, noble little girl, but for you our cemetery, 
already sown thickly with fresh graves, would hold two 
more to-day. Your friend has passed the crisis. She 
will live.” 

“ See here ! ” cried the doctor, sharply, as he looked at 
her. “You are not thinking of fainting — I hope you 
are not thinking of that. No ? Well, I must be going. 
Miss Leslie. Mr. Newman’s all right this morning, and 
his young wife will pull through now, please God ! 
Good morning.” 

And this household was still mercifully spared. 

During the tedious days of convalescence, while the 
patients, weaker than infants, slept, Leslie often sat alone 
just outside Kate’s door, some untouched bit of work in her 
hand, her thoughts busy and full of wonder and thankful- 


THE PLAGUE. 


187 


ness. She looked thin, white, careworn. Strong and 
fearless as she had appeared, the strain on heart and 
nerve had been terrible and tense. She felt as if she 
had never really lived before. 

Her heart leaped too at thoughts of her dear ones and 
the old home in Ashland. It must be seven years, not 
seven weeks, since she saw them last. Fortunately for 
all, since, as the child expressed her reason for remain- 
ing with her stricken friends, she “ could not do anything 
else,” the father and mother were off on a long journey, 
renewing their “ honeymoon ” amid the western mount- 
ains, miles distant from railways and post offices, knowing 
nothing of the danger to which their beloved daughter was 
exposed until a few days before it was over. She had sent 
her brothers and Kate’s parents, however, almost daily 
telegrams, of her own health and safety, and the condition 
of the two patients. At first, both Edwin and Frank had 
done all in their power, trying commands, entreaties, and 
coaxing, by turns, to induce their sister to leave the 
pestilence-swept city at once, and her friends to the care 
of nurses ; but finding that all failed alike to move her, 
they began to take a certain comfort in the strange, un- 
warranted belief that Leslie “ bore a charmed life any- 
way, and to forget their agonies of suspense and appre- 
hension in the thought of her high and noble courage. 
They called her a heroine, a second Grace Darling, the 
bravest, pluckiest, best little girl in the whole South. 
They were very proud of her, and so, indeed, was all 
Ashland. 


188 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


Early in the month of November the epidemic was 
declared over. Thousands of refugees came flocking 
back to the deserted homes of the city, and the tide of 
life, business, and pleasure began to roll on much as 
before. 

Mr. Newman was beginning to be quite himself again, 
but Kate gained strength very slowly. The three 
physicians who had been with them during their entire 
illness forbade all thoughts of work or care for at least 
another month. 

“ What your friends need and what you need yourself, 
my child,” said Leslie’s old doctor, who had given her the 
suggestive title of ‘my right hand’ all these trying 
weeks, “ is to go on the mountain, the highest spur you 
can find a place to stay in, and you’ll come back in 
the course of a few weeks brand new people, all three. So 
take yourselves ofi*, and up, at once. The sooner, the 
better too.” 

“ Do you remember that strange old ruin of a house 
near the lake on the mountain the guide called ‘ Castle 
Dangerous,’ Kate ? ’’ asked Mr. Newman, a day or two 
later. 

“Of course. How could I forget it when we were 
there, Leslie and I, the very day the fever was announced 
as epidemic in the city, the day after you were stricken 
down, my poor darling, and all alone too! Your giddy 
wife off on a holiday, and ” 

Her husband held up a warning finger. 


THE PLAGUE. 


189 


‘‘Well, I won’t till next time! ’’said Kate. “Only 
tell me about the house, Robert dear.” 

“ So I will. Our people here finding that the physi- 
cians advise change of scene, air, and a week or so of 
mountain life, have taken it for us. There are three 
fairly good rooms with great yawning fire places, and 
we are to have wood fires — back logs — Miss Leslie, 
think of that. They are sending up wagon loads of 
furniture, a range for cooking, and I don’t know what, 
that they have rented from the dealers here ; and pro- 
visions, first-class, the very best, and plenty of them too. 
A wagon will be at our door this afternoon, and Miss 
Leslie and I are to have it loaded with such things from 
home as we will need, books, trunks, rbcking-chairs, rugs, 
curtains, etc. We are to follow ourselves to-morrow in a 
close carriage. How do you like the idea ? ” 

“It’s just too splendid!” she exclaimed, with her old 
gay enthusiasm. “ It would have been perfect before if 
you had only been with us. Oh, Leslie, darling, how 
happy we will be ! ” 

“I said — don’t you remember, Kate — that we would 
come to that beautiful spot again in a way we never 
dreamed of?” said Leslie, gazing absently before her 
with a strange, absorbed expression. “And certainly 
we did not expect to return as convalescent fever 
patients and nurse ! I begin to believe in my ‘ presenti- 
ments,’ though I have one at this momeut that rather 
frightens me, it is so plain, so vivid.” 

“ Tell it to me, dearest,” said Kate, gazing very fondly 


190 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


in the girl’s face, so changed, pale, and altered, and yet 
the face of “ Bonnie Leslie ” still. 

** Why, nothing could be sillier, hut it swept over me 
like a storm that I would come face to face with a new 
life and future up there ; meet my own ‘ fate ’ in an hour 
of peril and ” 

‘‘ Well, go on ! ” 

“ Oh, I can’t ! ” said she, coloring warmly from 
throat to brow. ‘'It’s just too strange and — and impos- 
sible.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 


GOLDEN DAYS. 



T the very door of the “ Castle,” the deserted sum- 


nier residence of a wealthy planter, gone abroad 
these many years, were stern, gray rocks, and the wild, 
free beauty of mountain path and ravine. 

Our party had left the carriage when they reached the 
summit, following the path to the lake ; Kate leaning, as 
they walked, upon her husband’s arm. 

The weatherbeaten old house was not half the ruin it 
appeared, though it did have a forsaken sort of look, as 
well as a weird and ghostly air, an appearance of mystery 
and desolation, — the sort of place to haunt one’s dreams. 
But once inside, the three new-comers were not slow to 
recognize the solid creature comforts with which the 
rooms had been provided. Busy hands, a generous purse, 
loving thought, had been in conspiracy here, and the 
result of two days’ work was obvious and charming. 

The rooms had been chosen from the south side, and 
were not only sunny, but in good repair. They were also 
left in a state of perfect cleanliness ; and the two bed- 
rooms to which the ladies were assigned were furnished 
with severe but delightful simplicity. 

“ Now, this is what I call ‘ perfectly lovely,’ ” said 
Kate, as they went hither and thither about the old 


191 


192 


A THREAD OP GOLD. 


domain, chatting together as people do who know each 
other well. “ Our rooms are so convenient too. We 
have only to open this inner door to be all the same 
family.” 

“ I never dared hope that I might sleep in such a hous6 
as this, unless I went to Europe,” said Leslie, who preferred 
antique homeliness to new splendor. “ Isn’t that breeze 
a little too much for you, Katie ? Shall I shut the case- 
ment ? ” 

‘‘No, it’s going to stay open. Would you shut out 
this delicious, intoxicating air — a veritable life elixir ? 
Don’t speak of it, Leslie Hope.” 

A cheerful fire was burning on the ancient hearth- 
stone ; but in spite of a succession of heavy frosts and 
the lateness of the season, the weather was still warm and 
sunny, a sort of prolonged summer, or second spring- 
time. 

“ Very well ; you are the invalid, not I. Everything 
is perfect up here to me, even these arrangements so 
carefully made for an early tea, and these delicate re- 
freshments which fill to overflowing the old buffet — is 
that its name? — in the cute little dining room and 
kitchen combined. And now you shall see what a tempt- 
ing supper I shall produce therefrom in next to no time,” 
she went on, flying about, tying a big apron over her 
pretty dress, as she had seen her mother do, lighting the 
fire already laid in the range, pulling out a white and 
buff cloth, with napkins to match, from a drawer of the 
oval-shaped tea table, and beginning deftly to spread it 


GOLDEN DAYS. 


193 


in her own dainty fashion. “ Ah, Kate, how thankful 
we ought to be that our lives have been precious in his 
sight ! Indeed, I feel a debt of love that I cannot put 
in words. And I want very much to find some special 
work for him up here ; something to do for him, if ever 
so little, just to show my gratitude for sparing us to each 
other.” • 

“ But for you, dearest,” began Kate, tearfully, from 
her easy-chair. 

“ Don’t talk about me, Katie, while there are so many 
interesting subjects to discuss in this new and charming 
spol. I was just going to tell you of one other thing I 
would love to have besides the work. You must not 
laugh. . I want — to make me perfectly happy, you know, 
— an adventure, real and romantic, an adventure all by 
myself.” 

It was impossible not to laugh at these childishly 
mixed ambitions stated with such dignity, quite impos- 
sible, and Mrs. Newman made no efibrt to restrain her 
mirth. 

“ I hope you will be gratified, dear, in both extremely 
laudable wishes. But there is more chance for you to 
have the ‘ adventure ’ than the ‘ special work,’ in such a 
wilderness, to my thinking. It is a promising field for the 
former, and you are certainly just the girl for adven- 
tures ; such a brave, undaunted little thing, not a trace 
of the coward about you ! ” 

And yet, sometime that night — Kate did not know 
how long she had been asleep — she heard some one 
N 


194 


A THEEAD OF GOLD. 


whisper her name. She sprang up in bed and 
listened. 

“ Kate, are you awake ! ” 

A white figure, wrapped in a long dressing-gown, stood 
in the door. 

“Leslie, is it you? What is the matter, darling? 
Are you ill ? ” 

“ No, Kate ; I am afraid ! ” 

“ Afraid of what ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t know. Listen to the wind. It sounds as 
it did when Helen died, that night, you know. Hear 
how it moans.” 

“ But it often does that. They say it begins at twi- 
light in the pine belt, and keeps right on till sunrise.” 

“ How tiresome. And, oh ” 

“ What else, dear? ” 

“Don’t you remember what that lady said, the one 
we met at the lake when we were up here before, about a 
panther prowling around her cottage all one night? At 
least, she said she thought it might be a panther, from 
the sound, and the tracks, and all.” 

“ Wild beasts up here, this close to a city, Leslie ! I 
don’t believe one word of it. Fifty years ago, there may 
have been wolves. But now — you will take your death, 
child. Do hurry back to bed.” 

“ And you say it wasn’t a panther ? ” 

“ Why, of course I do. How are you ever to have 
that adventure, an adventure all by yourself too, if you 
mind such a wild, improbable story as this ? ” 


GOLDEN DAYS. 


195 


“ I had forgotten all about the panther when I said that/* 
said poor Leslie, shivering. “ I don’t believe I care for 
any adventures, after all. But 1 11 try to go to sleep, 
now. I’m sorry I waked you, Katie.” 

“Oh, that’s nothing,” said Mrs. Newman, sleepily. 
“ Good-night, darling.” 

She went back to her bed, laughing a little at this 
“ brave, undaunted girl, without a trace of the coward ” ; 
this noble girl, who had for weeks past faced the jaws of 
death, standing unflinchingly, meanwhile, at the post of 
duty, and was now afraid of the moaning wind outside. 
But there are plenty of people just as contradictory in 
their traits of character as Leslie Hope. Kate Newman 
herself was, as to that. 

The three spent some happy, halcyon days in the old 
castle. They had lived through a great crisis, the sort 
that tries men’s souls. The young husband and wife had 
suffered the ao:ony of fear that death would come between 
and part them ; death, the one power that could rend 
the bond of love, faith, and constancy, that made their 
“t^vo hearts beat as one.” And it was this, and the 
blessings of the present, that made him hold her often to 
his breast in her pale beauty, in an ecstacy of thankful, 
joy that told how great had been his sufferings while she 
lay in the valley of the shadow. These two who so loved 
each other would be more ready now to take uncom- 
plainingly the bitter with the sweets of life, since they 
had the hope of meeting all trials, all joys together. 
And certainly they had great reason to be glad and 


196 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


thankful. They were not only spared to each other, 
shown such signal marks of kindness and appreciation by 
their church people, gaining health and strength daily, 
but Mr. Newman’s little flock had suflered scarcely 
any loss from the inroads of the fever. Almost all of 
the city members had gone away at the first warning of 
danger, and those who lived beyond the limits had been 
singularly blessed, mercifully escaping the wide-spread 
fatality of the scourge. The pastor, who stricken down 
himself at the outset could not minister to their needs 
and comfort them in distress, felt especially grateful that 
this was so, praising God from a full heart that the 
lives of his people were spared as well as his own and those 
of loved ones. Indeed, it would be hard to find a more 
entirely blissful trio than this youthful pair, given back 
to each other from the arms of death, and the girl, who 
coming as their guest “just to have a good time,” had 
risked her life to save theirs. Leslie was quite as happy 
in her simple way, these sunny days, as the others. She 
was recovering both health and spirits in this fine, brac- 
ing atmosphere, and was more “ Bonnie Leslie ” than ever. 

Mr. Newman watched her flitting about the old castle, 
graceful and gracious, busy and happy, and wondered 
why he had never seen before how very sweet and 
womanly she was, and lovely too, and why she was so un- 
conscious of it all, and cared so little seemingly for cava- 
liers and such like. But how came Leslie to live so little 
in girls’ idle dreaming, in their Eden, where fond air castles 
are builded ? Her time was not yet come, that was all. 


GOLDEN DAYS. 


197 


“ Kate, dear Kate,” she exclaimed, one twilight, rushing 
into her friend’s room, “ we have made some of the most 
perfectly grand plans for to-morrow you ever heard of, 
if only you are well enough to help us carry them out. 
Listen, Kate, while I tell them to you. Mr. Evans, a 
preacher friend of Mr. Newman’s in the city, you may 
know him yourself, is coming up here in the morning 
with a party of friends, two hacks full, and has invited 
us all three to go with them on a fishing excursion to the 
other lake, on the west , side. We need not fish unless 
we choose, and we are to take books, shawls, camp chairs 
and hammocks, and — and a lunch basket. But I will see 
to that. Nothing shall trouble you if you will only try 
to go, like the darling you are. And in the afternoon we 
are to visit the most noted wonder of all, a city of rocks ; 
and after that to drive over to the Point for the mag- 
nificent view there. They have engaged rooms for that 
night at the “ Belle wood Hotel,” and asked me to join them 
so that I can see the sunrise with the party the next 
morning. Now isn’t that a lovely programme, Kate, a 
delicious-sounding sort of plan ? ” 

She stopped, out of breath, and Kate smiled for pleas- 
ure at the sweet, flushed face and pleading eyes. 

“ Altogether too lovely and delicious for me to be left 
out in the cold. And I’m quite well now, only a little 
lazy, I think, for the pleasure of being waited on by you.” 

And so early on the morrow the two parties met near 
the castle and set out together, Kate riding, Leslie and 
Mr. Newman among the pedestrians. 


198 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


Although it was the middle of November, the air was 
warm and bright, even odorous with sweet scents from 
the pine forests. The path chosen by the walking party 
was a narrow defile, which led on to a wide- ravine that 
broke its way wildly through the heart of the mountain. 
Delicate ferns flourished in cool, damp recesses among 
the rocks, and strange birds of bright plumage whirled 
away in circles at their approach. A silver stream 
threaded the tangles of thick undergrowth, lost itself in • 
mysterious caverns, reappearing amid some late scarlet 
blossoms in the greenest of glades. The glowing color 
and deep repose of the sky gave to their enchantingly 
lovely surroundings the last touch of perfection. In 
that pure mountain air they felt no sense of weariness 
or fatigue, and all too soon the morning went by. 

For the hour of luncheon they chose a spot of sun- 
shine and shadow commingled, in sight of a rocky cav- 
ern, whose vaulted roof seemed to glitter with sparkling 
gems. Before them, steeped in the noonday brightness, 
Jay the lake ; a vivid blue in color, beautiful enough for 
fairies to launch their airy craft upon. Kate, scorning 
so commonplace a thing as a camp chair, or even the 
hammocks, leaned back on a lichen-covered rock between 
two trees, waited upon by Leslie, watched over fondly 
by her husband. Surely the mountain air was a wonder- 
ful tonic. Her cheeks, lately so thin and white, were 
taking on a pretty roundness and a color as pink as the 
heart of a rose. As for Leslie, whose flower-face had 
been from a child remarkable for nothing except a pair 


GOLDEN DAYS. 


199 


of fine dark eyes and the rich bloom on her cheek, she 
was rosier than ever, not in the very least resembling her 
favorite heroines in history and romance, who were all, 
as a rule, pale. There was nothing extraordinary about 
Leslie Hope, even in looks. An adept in the art of 
reading one’s countenance would have found in hers only 
a gentle, womanly girl. 

“ Let us wait upon you now. Miss Leslie,” Mr. New- 
man was saying. “ Will you have ” 

But she touched his arm, saying, in a half-whisper : 
“ Do you see that man sitting in the shade behind the 
group of trees over there ? ” 

“ Well, it is only some one resting after ‘a long climb 
among these highlands. What of it ? ” 

“ Poor fellow ! ” said Leslie, still regarding him with 
her gentle glance ; “ how dusty and tired he looks ; dis- 
appointed, dejected too, I think.” 

“ Tramps always do, child,” suggested Kate, in a low 
tone. “ It is their natural expression.” 

“ Is he a tramp ? ” 

“ Well, I rather think he is,” said the minister, watch- 
ing her face with an amused smile. “ What could she 
be planning ? ” he wondered. 

“ I have fed many a one at home,” she went on, “ who 
did not look half so cast-down and hopeless, it is true. 
And you see how hungry he looks, besides. Please, 
Kate, let me take him some dinner. We have such an 
abundance left over, and — and I really should like to do 
it, very much.” 


200 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


** You are a spoiled child, Leslie,” said her friend, in- 
dulgently, beginning to provide for her a generous supply 
of the feast ; “ but it is just like you to think of such a 
kindness, and surely no harm can come of it. Run along 
and hurry back.” 

The tramp turned with a sudden start of surprise at 
her appearance. He had not heard her light step on 
the grass. 

“ Here, poor man,” began the girl, in her childish 
fashion, “ is some of our lunch. I thought perhaps you 
would like to have it, and I could not bear to see you 
look so — so hungry and lonely.” 

He fixed his eyes full upon her face for an instant, as 
one who sees something strange, yet familiar; who is 
haunted by, but cannot locate its strong resemblance to 
another. 

Then he touched his slouched hat, and said, in a very 
low voice: “Thank you, miss. But why should you 
take this trouble for me ? ” 

“ Oh, it was no trouble ; none at all ! I wanted to do 
it. I asked them to let me.” 

“ You are very kind,” he said, smiling a little as he 
looked into her face. His own, deeply bronzed by wind 
and weather, wore a perplexed and musing air. But he 
said nothing more. When she was gone, he ate the 
abundant meal with the keen enjoyment of a hungry 
man. 

It was late in the afternoon when the party reached 
the wonderful formation, whose weird likeness to streets 


GOLDEN DAYS. 201 

and towers, housetops and pinnacles, had won for itself 
the name of “ City of Rocks.” 

They were much impressed, as all tourists must be, 
by the solemn silence, the deep desolation of the place, 
with its solitary untrodden thoroughfares, its lofty domes, 
and its wide, unpeopled wards. 

“ It is quite as perfect in its isolation as those cities of 
old, buried beneath the lava tide of burning volcanoes,” 
suggested Mr. Evans, looking about him on the streets 
and houses wearing the calm stillness of the desert waste. 

“ I can fancy that at night these ghastly avenues are 
given over to ghouls, hobgoblins, and wild beasts ; pan- 
thers, perhaps,” said Kate, glancing at Leslie to note the 
effect of her words. 

“ I think it likely, then, that they take turns in their 
promenade, or some of them would walk no more. I 
doubt whether even ghouls and hobgoblins are proof 
against the inroads of panthers,” added one of the city 
gentlemen, laughing. 

“ It is certainly the most eerie, gruesome spot I ever 
saw anywhere,” Leslie said, shivering a little ; “ full of 
desolation even in this fine sunlight. Imagine how it 
would appear bathed in the white, mysterious moonlight 
of these last lovely nights. Ah, I would not come here 
after nightfall, even with crowds of people, for the 
world.” 

“Perhaps it is just as well, then, that we are not to 
stay,” remarked one of the ladies, taking out her watch, 
and noting how late it was growing. “We must be at 


202 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


the Point within an hour, if we would see the view with 
the sunset light upon it. And it is quite a long, rough 
drive we take afterward, you know, to the ‘ Belle- 
wood.’ ” 

“ Let us make the most of our brief time left then,” 
said Mr. Evans, and he led the way for the city party 
through the Art Gallery and Echo Hall to the outer 
world again, some distance beyond the pine belt, where 
the view was considered almost as fine as from the Point 
itself. 

The pastor, his wife, and Leslie remained behind, 
lounging upon a gray dome covered with ivy. They 
were afraid to fatigue Kate further, and to confess the 
truth, were exceedingly weary themselves. 

“ They are going to keep only one of the hacks up for 
the night,” said Kate, “ and I really wish, since we are to 
take one, that we could go right on to the * Castle ’ now. 
I am so tired, and I want a cup of tea.” 

Why not go then at once ? ” asked Leslie. “ I will 
make your adieux, and return your thanks for you when 
they come back, which they mean to do in a little while. 
And I do not in the least mind being alone in the day- 
time. Do hurry, Kate. I cannot bear to see you look- 
ing so pale, so weary.” 

“And you really prefer going with the rest to the 
hotel for the night ? You seem tired yourself, Leslie.” 

“ Yes, I will go, since they are so kind as to expect 
me ; but I am tired, and my head aches.” 

“ I wish you were going home with us,” Kate said. 


GOLDEN DAYS 


203 


kissing her fondly, “ but I shall have you back early in 
the morning, and I don’t like to be selfish.” 

And then Mr. Newman roused the sleepy driver, 
handed his wife in the carriage, waved a final good-bye 
to Leslie, and they were gone. 

Thus left alone, the girl strolled about the vast soli- 
tude for a little while, and then seeing a restful nook 
sheltered by a thick growth of tall, rare ferns, she crept 
in on the rock, leant her aching head on its cold pillow, 
and waited for the coming of the excursionists. 

But when they did come, finding nobody at all in sight 
and the sun ready to sink, they hurriedly took their places 
in the remaining hack, and were driven rapidly away. 

“ She must have gotten tired of waiting for us,” sug- 
gested one. 

“ Or changed her mind, perhaps ; preferring to go to 
the ‘ Castle ^ with her friends,” said another. 

“ Well, she is certainly a very bright, winsome sort of 
a person,” wound up a third. 

The sunset scene was quite as beautiful as their fancy 
painted it. And the moonlight coming after was very 
lovely too. The great city at their feet seemed transfig- 
ured. Cold and defining, it touched vale, hill, and river 
with the whiteness of alabaster. Mr. Evans looked 
about him a little absently. 

“ I am sorry Miss Hope is not with us,” he said. “ I 
should have liked to watch that speaking face of hers 
in the presence of such noble beauty as this.” 

In the shadow of the pillared porch of the ancient 


204 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


house, Kate and her husband stood a moment or two 
gazing out on the exquisite effect of moonlight on the 
ruin. 

“ I almost wish I had urged her to come with us,” the 
wife was saying. “ It is quite chilly to-night, and Leslie 
is so careless about wraps. It is unusual too for her to 
look pale now, or to have that common malady — the 
headache.” 

“Well, she decided that matter for herself, dear. 
And she’ll be with us again early in the morning. So 
I wouldn’t feel anxious, if I were you.” 

And yet, had they known it, their friend was in a posi- 
tion to cause anxiety in persons of stouter nerves than 
theirs. 


CHAPTER XVII 


A STRANGE ADVENTURE. 

TS it possible that I have fallen asleep,” Leslie said, 
-L after a time, as she sprang up and gazed about 
her. “ I feel so cold and stiff, cramped in every limb, 
though my head does not ache. Can I have been asleep 
here ? Oh, I wonder if I’ve kept them waiting ? They 
may not know just where to find me, and so I’ll hurry 
outside, close to the carriage, and explain at once how I 
happen to be alone, and why the Newmans went without 
saying good-bye. How low the sun is. Dear me ! I’m 
sorry I agreed to wait alone, after all ! Something has 
surely happened to detain them. Oh, where am I ? It 
is night ! It is night ! ” 

For the truth had burst suddenly upon her mind. She 
saw beyond the pure flood of moonlight; behind, dim 
caverns of darkness ; above, the steel-blue sky. 

Distinct with vivid stars inlaid ; 

she heard the dirge-like moan of the night wind in its 
restless wandering among the pines of the forest. 

She knew what had happened, at last. She had been 
left behind. It was plain to her startled senses how this 
had occurred too. The city party had returned from 
their walk beyond the pines to find one of the carriages, 
which was expected to take Mr. and Mrs. Newman to 

205 


206 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


“ Castle Dangerous ” on its way back to the city, gone. 
Since she, Leslie Hope, was nowhere to be seen, her 
resting place so screened from view by the tall, drooping 
ferns that her presence was not discovered, and her sleep 
was so profound that their voices had not roused her, 
they had gone their way, supposing her safe with her 
friends, taking it for granted that she had changed her 
mind about accompanying them to the Point and hotel 
for the night, and had gone back to the “ Castle ” instead. 

She uttered one low, piteous cry, poor, bewildered, 
frightened girl, when the thought of the long distance 
from home, the unknown way leading thither, and the 
certainty that she would not be missed until late the next 
morning, forced itself upon her consciousness. Kate was 
sure that she was safe at the “ Bellewood ” with the rest. 
And Mr. Evans and his party were equally so that she 
was with her friends. And she was — oh, dreadful, hor- 
rible thought ! here, alone in this desolate, ghostly, grue- 
some place, to spend the long hours of the night. 

Grotesque shapes began to haunt those silent streets. 
A night bird uttered a low, trembling call to its mate. 
A black bat flew close to her head, its heavy wings fanning 
her white cheeks. An owl watched her solemnly from 
its perch and circled away with its melancjioly hoot, the 
most eerie sound of all. 

She could not stay in this place any longer. With a 
strength born only of terror, she found her way out 
through the dim gallery, climbed to the top of a leaning 
boulder, and fell down there, breathless and shivering. 





A Thread of Gold 


Page 207, 







( • 




p 


i 


4 


-> 


r 


i 


I 




t 

f 

* 

I 


L.' 


* 


f 


» 






I 


♦ . .• 


A STRANGE ADVENTURE. 


207 


“ What shall I do ? ” she said, when she had recovered 
breath. “ I must do something. I must try to plan.’^ 

To go to the “ Castle ” by the way they had come that 
morning would be impossible. The path was indistinct 
in the daytime; at night, one much better acquainted 
with it than she would find it difiicult to follow. There 
>vas one other and shorter way. But in what direction 
must she start to find it? And even if she knew — not 
that way, alone and at midnight 1 She drew her damp 
wrap closer about her shudderingly. Her dress now 
heavy with dew clung in limp folds around her feet. 

“ There’s nothing I can do,” she cried desperately, and 
sank down once more. She was too frightened, too be- 
wildered yet, to think, save in an unreal, half-frantic 
fashion. But strangely enough, the moment she realized 
her utter helplessness, that she was entirely powerless in 
this most forlorn situation, she began to grow calm. 

Why had she not thought of that sleepless eye, that 
all powerful, guiding One, watching above her, ready to 
help and sustain ? 

She lifted her pale, haggard young face to the sky, and 
whispered a prayer to God. She had been too benumbed 
to feel his touch ; too agitated to lean upon his sympathy ; 
too terror-stricken to hear his gentle bidding, “ Peace, be 
still ! ” But now she felt his loving, pitying presence in 
every fibre of her being. Once more she was trusting. 
Once more she was feeling beneath her the everlasting 
arms, as when with heroic courage she stood by, to the 
last, the suffering victims of the plague. For Leslie 


2.08 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


Hope knew how to trust the infinite Father. She was 
not a coward in the presence of real danger, for she 
believed in him. 

Never in all the years of her after life did she realize 
more sensibly his divine presence, than upon this night, 
on the mountain top, alone in the weird, deserted “ city ” 
of silence and shadow I 

She began to hum an old hymn she had learned when 
a little child, 

“He went by night to Jesus,” 

and to repeat some verses she had heard from her colored 
“ mammy ” at the quarters : 

“ In thy presence we are happy, 

In thy presence we can fly ! 

In thy presence we can conquer. 

In thy presence we can die ! ” 

She felt afraid no longer. She began to look about 
her with calmness, almost pleasure, in the beautiful moon- 
lit panorama spread out around her lofty perch. 

“Ghouls, hobgoblins, and panthers, perhaps,” Kate 
had said, “ walked these streets at night.” But she did 
not fear them now. She was waiting for something to 
happen. What would it be ? 

Surely she heard footsteps. And they were coming 
closer. Who — what could it be ? She was leaning for- 
ward, her hands tightly clasped, straining her eyes to 
pierce the white veil of moonlight in search of the un- 
known comer, friend, intruder, beast of prey, or 

A tall figure sprang lightly up the rocks, and reaching 


A STKANGE ADVENTURE. 


209 


her level stood before her in silence, his hat in his hand. 
She gave his face one swift glance of recognition, and 
lifted her own with the timid, trusting appeal of defense- 
less womanhood written thereon, to his questioning eyes. 

Yet it was only the man she had fed at dinner time, 
the tramp who had thanked her as he benefited by her 
kindness. Only the roughly clad stranger, who was wan- 
dering about in these solitary places in the dead of the 
night because, perhaps, he had nowhere to stay or to call 
home. It was nobody she knew or cared for. But this 
strange girl had great faith in the God with whom she 
had been communing, and so her first words of greeting 
to the tramp were these : 

“ I asked God to send somebody, and he has sent you. 
Oh, I am so glad, so ” 

She got no farther than this, for she fainted at his feet, 
the strain had been so great. It was but for a moment 
though, for her unknown friend had applied a restorative 
which he happened to have, and she awoke as he was 
saying, though the voice seemed to Leslie’s ringing ears 
to be a long way off*: 

“ You must let me take you home. Don’t waste your 
strength in telling how you happen here. I can guess, 
and it does not matter. Come ! ” 

“ I am sure God sent you,” she repeated, for she was a 
little dazed with these exciting experiences, and the 
revulsion of feeling from fear to safety had been intense. 

Well, perhaps ! I am glad I happened to be passing 

by since you were in need of help, at any rate.” 

o 


210 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


" You do not talk like the other tramps I have seen 
and fed,” said Leslie, beginning the descent of the steep 
rocks, carefully guided by his strong hand. “ But I feel 
certain you mean to be kind and good, and will take me 
safely to my friends. You look as if you would ! ” 

“Do I? Well, I’ll be very careful, miss,” he said, 
humbly, “ if you’ll only try me ! ” 

“I will,” she responded. “I am staying at that old 
castle, the ruin, you know, near the lake, on the east side. 
Did you ever see the place? Yes? Well, perhaps you 
know the short way then ? ” 

“ I know the short cuts to most places up here, and am 
used to measuring distance by the way the crow flies. I 
learned that in early tramps I took. Your road goes by 
some neglected, overgrown graves on the edge of a 
woodland. I’ll get you home safely enough if you will 
only ” 

He stopped and looked concerned for a moment. It 
was the unnatural excitement of so strange an adventure 
that was sugtaining Leslie’s strength. Now that it was 
subsiding, she felt herself giving way. The tramp saw it 
quite plainly. 

“ If you will only take my arm, I was about to say,” he 
went on, gravely, flxing his eyes respectfully upon her 
girlish face. “We’ll get on faster then, and you’ll not 
mind it for once, seeing you are so tired, will you, miss? ” 
If she hesitated, it was only for a second. “You are 
very kind,” she said, gently, “ and I don’t mind it at all.” 
After that he talked with less efibrt. He told her why 


A STRANGE ADVENTURE. 


211 


he had come to this mountain height ; at least, he said he 
had come expecting to accomplish a purpose he had felt 
sure of for years, but that he had failed after all — utterly 
failed ! He could not sleep that night for disappointment, 
and so was wandering about among the wonderful rocks 
over there when he saw her, and felt sure that she was in 
distress. 

“ And were you really as hungry when I gave you food 
tO‘day as I thought you were ? ” 

^‘Yes, miss,” he answered, simply, turning away his 
face at the same time. “ It was very good in you to give 
such a kind thought to me while you were making 
merry with your friends,” he went on. “ But all your 
thoughts are kind. I feel sure of that, or you would not 
have spoken so gently to a tramp. Well, we are almost 
in sight of your place now — a fine old mansion in its day.” 

Yes, she was almost at home now, and a question she 
longed to ask, some words she meant to speak, had been 
kept back. Perhaps, she could not tell, it was the moon- 
light that made the man’s face look so stern, pale, and 
unhappy. She could never bear to think of people being 
sad, lonely, and comfortless while her own young life 
was so bright, so rich in friends, so full of hope and 
beauty. And she saw something in this poor stranger, 
whom heaven had sent to her as guide and protector, be- 
sides the tramp whom everybody despised, whom nobody 
cared for, or even pitied. She had stolen a glance at his 
face now and then, and had seen there both strength and 
courage. Perhaps he needed only to be treated kindly, 


212 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


to be helped by words of hope and encouragement, to be- 
come a better man. Perhaps too, he knew nothing, cared 
nothing for the blessed Saviour, whose heart had been 
wrung, whose feet had bled, that this poor tramp’s soul 
might be saved as well as hers. Were not the souls of the 
whole world most precious in the sight of Jesus of 
Nazareth? 

Leslie took it rather for granted that these outcasts 
among men, these deserters from the beaten track of duty 
and industry, who had won for themselves the common 
appellation of “ tramps,” were not religious. They were a 
despised set, ordered away from even the humblest door 
with scant ceremony, barked at by honest dogs, feared 
and avoided as idle, worthless, shiftless beings, if not 
worse ; but yet the girl who knew these things of old, re- 
garded this man, whom God had sent in direct answer to 
her prayer of faith, in a very different light. He neither 
looked nor spoke like any other tramp she had ever seen. 
And suppose some word of hers in witnessing for Jesus 
should go home to that heart, suggesting new hopes, a 
changed life, nobler, higher aspirations! Why should 
she shrink from making the most for eternity of this ad- 
venture which had ended so happily, and might have been 
given her to be used as part of that special work she had 
asked at God’s hands in order to show forth her grateful 
love and devout thanksgiving for the mercies just shown 
to her friends and herself. 

Yet she did shrink. They had reached the opening 
now where the old gray castle was in full view, and still 


A STRANGE ADVENTURE. 


213 


Leslie had kept silent. Not a word of all the thoughts 
of which her eager heart was full did she speak. 

*‘Here we are,” announced her companion, a little 
gruffly. “ I’ll leave you now.” 

“ But I want to say good-bye first, and God bless you,” 
she answered, putting out her hand. 

“ I hope he thinks of me to more purpose than I do of 
him,” he began, with a short laugh; “but I’m much 
obliged to you, miss, all the same,” he added, in an altered 
tone. 

Now was Leslie’s opportunity, or it was lost forever. 
She had no time to think over or to ponder her words in 
the haste and pressure of the moment. 

“ Do you know,” she said, looking at him with that ex- 
quisite gentleness that made people look again and call 
her face so divinely tender, “ that I have been thinking 
almost all the way about whether you loved my Saviour, 
and wondering if I could speak a word that would go to 
your heart and make him your Saviour too, if you did 
not ? But I did not know what to say nor how to begin. 
And now that you are going away, and I may never see 
you again and yet have done nothing, said nothing to 
help you or comfort you, I feel so very unhappy. Per- 
haps he meant me to be silent though, for once, and speak 
himself from his own gospel. Will you let me give you 
something to keep, to read, and to remember this night 

by. 

His dark face flushed. 

“ Oh, I’ll remember it fast enough without a gift.” 


214 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


“ But you won’t mind waiting a moment here,” she 
pleaded. 

He pulled his hat well down over his eyes, and nodded. 

On the window sill of her own room, on the south 
corner, lay her Bible just as she had left it yesterday 
morning, or ages ago, she could hardly tell which — a 
costly book in antique binding, a gift from her father on 
her eighteenth birthday. She walked lightly, and spoke 
in a whisper : 

“You will read it — it’s my Bible, you see — if only for 
my sake, will you not? ” 

“ It’s too fine for a tramp ; but you might write a word 
or two on the first leaf there, so that folks will know 
I came by it honest, and then I’ll take it, and thank you 
too.” 

“ And you will read it ? ” 

“Yes, I will!” 

The words sounded more like a vow made to himself, 
to his own aroused soul, than to her. He produced a bit 
of pencil. She could see quite well, and began to write 
just below the lines “ To my beloved child, Leslie Hope, 
from father.” 

“ Put your full name and where you live when at home, 
and say it’s a present,” he suggested, looking on with 
great interest at the rapidly moving pencil. 

“ Have you ever had a Bible of your very own before ? ” 
asked the girl, intent upon her task. 

The tramp seemed to reflect for a moment. 

“ Yes, miss. My mother left me hers, but that was lost 


A STKANGE ADVENTURE. 


215 


through misfortune. I was sorry then, am sorry now. 
Years after I had another given me, and that I’ve kept. 
It meant so much to me at the time and afterward. But 
I will prize yours all the same, miss, since you are so 
kind. Thank you, and if you’ll not think it a mockery 
for such as I am to take the words upon my lips, I’d like 
to say ‘ God bless you ’ too. You’ll shake hands? ” 

Leslie put her hand at once in his. 

‘‘ Good-bye ! God bless you ! A girl like you, who be- 
lieves in Christ, in heaven, and an hereafter, seems an arch- 
angel to the man who dares to question her pure faith. 
I shall never forget you, miss — never ! And give this to 
your friends in the morning ; I shall be gone away long 
before then, on the east-bound train, which passes the 
city at three. It is only my card, but they might like to 
see it.” 

Leslie did not care to have him see her smile, but it 
was amusing — the idea of a tramp leaving his card. 

A volume would be needed to record all that was said 
and done when Leslie revealed herself and the story of 
her adventure, and was kissed and cried over by her re- 
morseful friend, Mrs. Newman, while the minister declared 
that she ought to be perfectly happy. “ For she has had, 
if I’m any judge on such subjects,” he added, laughing, 
“ a real adventure, and an adventure all by herself, ex- 
cusing the tramp.” 

“Such an experience as this is really worth telling, 
Leslie,” her friend said. “ And to think of being brought 
home by a tramp at midniglit ! How romantic ! How 


216 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


your imagination can revel in it all ! Why you can 
imagine him your prince in disguise, whose coming is to 
waken all beautiful forms of enchanting life about you. 
I shall expect him to come back with a coach and four 
one of these days, and bear you off to his palace in some 
distant clime.” 

“ How absurd you are, Katie,” said the minister, giving 
her a fond look, noting at the same time Leslie’s some- 
what puzzled and embarrassed face. The fellow be- 
haved well enough; acted the gentleman, in fact, to 
the letter. But this card discloses the greatest piepe of 
impudence I ever knew even a tramp to be guilty of. 
Why, this name. Field Stanley McLeod, is one of the 
brightest young names in the scientific world. The owner 
is regarded as quite the coming man in certain directions. 
He has made very recently some important discoveries in 
geological investigations, and is now somewhere in the 
South looking after the interests of the society of which he 
is president. You see I know a great deal about him, the 
real fellow, not the tramp. He and my particular chum 
of seminary days are the greatest friends in the world, 
in truth Damon and Pythias in their mutual devotion, cor- 
responded constantly, and all that sort of thing. Perkins, 
it seems, roomed with McLeod through a year or two of 
college life in the West, and was always holding him up 
as an example of what a self-made man may become 
urged on by ambition. He used to say often that McLeod 
needed only a restful faith in Christ to make him a most 
perfect specimen of manhood. McLeod wrote a peculiar 


A STRANGE ADVENTURE. 


217 


hand, and this card is of his very own penmanship. I’d know 
this writing anywhere. What I’d like to find out is how 
Miss Leslie’s polite escort, the hero of her late adventure, 
came to have this bit of cardboard in his possession.’* 

“ He said it was his card,” suggested Leslie, growing 
very pale. 

“You can’t believe all that is told you by women, epi- 
taphs, or tramps, my young lady,” said the minister, 
laughing. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 


A “white” thanksgiving. 

ri^HERE are white days in our lives which our hearts 
“L cherish always. These are the days our souls mark 
with a white stone, on which is inscribed the rare joy, the 
pure delight that made them precious. Such a day as 
this was the glad “Thanksgiving” of the year 1878 to 
Leslie Hope — a day which her grateful young heart 
would keep fresh in her memory forever. 

The last Thursday in the month of November, set apart 
by the proclamation of the President of the United States 
as a day of national thanksgiving and prayer, was not ob- 
served after the usual fashion of such anniversaries, in the 
South at least. Usually Thanksgiving Day was kept be- 
neath those generous old root-trees, and in humbler homes 
as well, as a time of general rejoicing, of great feasting and 
good cheer, seasoned rather sparsely with the service of 
praise and prayer. There were more stir and bustle 
hurrying to and fro between laden pantry shelves and 
the white-spread, groaning dining table, than bowing the 
head in grateful prayer to God. For many bright and 
prosperous years this had been so. 

But over this sunny land a dark pall of gloom was 
hanging in the November of ’78. The plague-smitten 
regions were but just emerging from the shadow of a dread- 
218 


A WHITE THANKSGIVING. 


219 


fill calamity, the untold horrors of a wide-spread pestilence. 
The fair cities and growing prosperous towns and vil- 
lages had been left desolate by the fearful march of the 
destroyer. His legions had won the day in the battle, in 
this warfare of woe. The land was full of bleeding 
hearts ; mourners who had seen their loved ones die and 
now shrank back from the happy memories this anniver- 
sary recalled. How could they celebrate the day, or 
give thanks with their heads bowed down, their hearts 
crushed beneath such a load of sorrow? How rejoice 
upon this historic holiday? And, yet, what nation had 
more reason to offer the incense of praise, and lift up the 
voice of thanksgiving than theirs? Who had received 
greater blessings than this scourge-swept people ? Belief 
had come from God, and those whom he had permitted 
to escape all the deadly perils of those dark days had 
surely abundant cause for thankfulness. 

No one felt this more strongly perhaps than Leslie 
Hope herself, full of deep content and overflowing hap- 
piness for the unnumbered blessings of her lot. And the 
girl had indeed sufficient cause for great joy and heart- 
felt praise and gratitude. 

She was back once more in her father’s house, regarded 
by every member of the family as one snatched from the 
jaws of a cruel monster, a treasure nearly lost, and saved 
to them “ so as by fire,” restored from the very arms of 
death to be once more the chief joy of the home, where 
her presence was like a perpetual benediction. How 
much they loved her, the fond old father, the adoring 


220 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


mother, the proud young brothers I And what a dear, 
beautiful home this house of her father’s was ! How fair 
and bright it looked even in a November dawning! The 
sun itself was a little tardy, but it came up at last, and rested 
lovingly, Leslie thought, upon the old home and its sur- 
rounding lawn, beautiful still with its late autumn flowers. 

Ah, there was much to be thankful for, she thought, 
if there were only the blessings of air and sky, of bud 
and bloom, of balm-laden breeze and the beauty of dawn, 
of the singing of birds and the bountiful harvests, and 
the hills far away, and the brightness of sun, moon, and 
stars. But there were others far more precious than these 
— friends, old and new, trusting and trusted, the gracious 
sweetness of home life amid hearts that were tender, and 
the “ crown of all blessings since blessings began,” the 
priceless, matchless gift from the Father — “ the unspeak- 
able gift” of his own dear Son as the Saviour of men ! 

Had ever a girl more cause to be glad, happy, and 
thankful than she ? She shuddered as thoughts of those 
dark, troublous days, when she battled for the lives she 
loved with the fever scourge, thrust themselves in. How 
good God was I How signally had he blessed those poor 
eflbrts of hers I A thousand fold had he rewarded the 
trust, the self-denial, the self-forgetful devotion which she 
had laid at his feet, in raising up to life the friends she 
loved. How could she ever thank and praise him enough ? 

And yielding to the influence of such reflections as 
these, as well as to the spell of the lovely hour spent alone 
with her God, Leslie worshiped in her heart more deeply 


A WHITE THANKSGIVING. 


221 


than ever before the Creator of the fair beauty outspread 
before her, the bountiful Giver of all perfection and 
power, the Source from which came every blessing that 
enriched her young life ; and, falling upon her knees in 
the quiet of her own little room, she began the Thanks- 
giving Day — as it was most fitting she should — ^with 
prayer. 

A little later, she was out upon the lawn, with basket 
and scissors, cutting the gayest and freshest of the autumn 
flowers for the adornment of the breakfast table, with 
eyes and cheeks of such brightness, and lips so smiling, 
that Edwin, strolling out, quoted in his most gallant style 
the ancient rhyme — 

“ Her angel face 

Made sunshine in a shady place,” — 

and Frank, who followed him, not to be outdone, com- 
pared her to “ a summer day,” challenging her with a 
brotherly kiss or two, “ to show him a flower more fair 
than herself.” 

Leslie’s mother — excellent woman and notable house- 
wife that she was — spent a busy morning on the day of 
the annual holiday, which for our Puritan ancestors held 
so deep a spiritual significance. She had her own ideas 
in regard to how it should be kept, which would doubtless 
have greatly shocked its stern old founders, had they lived 
to hear them. The truth was, good, motherly Mrs. Hope 
was so busy with the feasting — not for herself, but for 
other people — that giving thanks was crowded out. 
There was hardly any time for prayer and praise deft. 


222 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


But she never forgot to send a laden basket or two of the 
toothsome viands prepared in honor of this day to the 
poor families living in the rear of the Hope mansion. 
She took time for that. And remembering Leslie’s solic- 
itude and suggestions about the parsonage pantry on 
last Christmas, she thought it might “ please the dear 
child ” if they— a few of the sisters — enriched its shelves 
on this occasion also. And nearly all yesterday had been 
devoted to this benevolent task ; but the minister had de- 
clared that “ his heart was almost as full as his pantry.” 
And the dear child ” was pleased, aye, delighted ; and 
she herself was quite satisfied with such results as these 
for her labors of love on yesterday. 

Still, there was yet much to be done for her own 
Thanksgiving board. Certain tasks remained, which re- 
quired her own delicate skill, that the family feast of joy, 
intended especially to celebrate the safe return of their 
ewe-lamb, their youngest, should be even a trifle more 
perfect to-day than ever before. For not even the dames 
and maidens of Plymouth could excel Mrs. Hope in 
dainty preparation when it came to sweets and spices, 
and the making of those delicious pumpkin pies which 
the housekeeper who cherishes one sentiment of patriotic 
teeling never willingly omits from the menu of the 
Thanksgiving feast. 

“ And how is everything getting on. Aunt Dinah ? ” 
Mrs. Hope asked, of the old, wrinkled-faced colored 
woman who presided over the Hope kitchen on all fes- 
tival days, and was never so much in her glory as when 


A WHITE THANKSGIVING. 


223 


her services were in demand, and her skill in cooking 
taxed and praised. 

“ Ebery ting’s jest lubly, missus,” she answered, tossing 
her gay turbaned head and showing her still white teeth, 
“ leastwise it would be if dat Milly would stan’ back outer 
my way and keep dar. What do she know ’bout fine 
vittles like we’s used to ? Oh, you jest go ’long, gal, and 
tend to your dinin’ room and the table fixin’s, I’m a 
gettin’ this dinner for dat bressed chile what Ole Marster 
raised up from de dead wid de fever, and what jest ’scaped 
wid her life from dat wild tramp on dem mountains at 
night ; dat’s pre-cise-ly what I’se a doin’, and I don’t want 
no niggahs what’s not been brung up by de quality to 
keep pesterin’ of me. You heah me ? ” 

But Milly, who ruled supreme here except on the spe- 
cial occasions when Old Dinah’s help was needed, and 
ordered Ben, the houseboy, around quite as much as she 
pleased in her easy-going, good-natured way, cared nothing 
for this tirade. She knew that the old negress, a faithful 
servant in the Hope family these forty years, only lately 
retired to a comfortable cabin of her own — a gift from 
the deacon — was a privileged character, and said what 
she liked. So she only laughed and tossed her head, 
adorned far more coquettishly than Dinah’s, in a plaid 
scarf of Miss Leslie’s own choosing — a gift on yesterday. 

‘‘Well, perhaps it would be better for Milly to be get- 
ting her dining room ready, and leave the dinner to you, 
Dinah,” suggested Mrs. Hope, mildly. And for the next 
hour she was herself engrossed in the little mixing room. 


224 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


with the mysteries of flaky pie crust and amber-hiied 
custard. 

Here’s a little bundle, Miss Susan,” announced Ben, 
a short time afterward, standing in the door, his hat in 
hand. “ A bundle what the expressman done brought us.” 

“ Whom is it for ? ” asked Mrs. Hope, glancing up 
with scant curiosity. 

“ It says Miss Leslie’s name in this ’ere writin’ on it,” 
answered Ben, proud of his ability to decipher that much. 

“Very well. Put it by Miss Leslie’s plate, and she 
can open it herself at dinner, if she wishes.” 

Mrs. Hope heard the church-goers come in just as she 
fastened the lace in the neck of her black silk gown with 
her favorite brooch ; and hastening down, she found the 
servants bringing in the last of the savory dishes. 

Frank gallantly escorted his mother to her place at the 
head of the long, shining, beautiful table, and Leslie fol- 
lowed, smiling for pleasure, on the arms of her father and 
Edwin. 

For once there were no guests at the bountiful board 
of their Thanksgiving feast; Mrs. Hope preferring, as 
Frank declared, “ to celebrate the prodigal’s return with- 
out witnesses.” 

They were a very merry family party who gathered 
about it, however, and doubtless would have done full 
justice to Old Dinah’s far-famed substantials and the 
tempting array of dainties, if Leslie had not at once dis- 
covered the small parcel that “ said her name in writing,” 
and decided that she could not wait to open it. 


A WHITE THANKSGIVING. 


225 


There was a tiny morocco box within the paper wrap- 
pings, that flew apart at a touch upon the clasp. And 
on a cushion of pink velvet there lay a most exquisite 
little watch — one side richly studded with small dia- 
monds, the other showing a perfect calla — outlined deli- 
cately in white and dark green enamel. 

She caught her breath rather quickly as she looked on 
this beautiful jeweled thing, and then, very wonderingly, 
opened the fair, gold case. 

There was an inscription inside, that said plainly enough 
that Rev. Robert Newman’s grateful people had sent it 
to her, Leslie Hope, as “ a slight token of their high es- 
teem and gratitude ” ; but there were a few words more 
about “ noble courage ” and “ heroic service ” which she 
could not exactly make out. The lettering was fine, and 
her eyes had grown suddenly dim. Why, she could 
hardly see her dear old father’s face for a blinding mist. 
And what an uncomfortable feeling there was in her 
throat ! She put one hand a little absently to her head 
while she held the glittering watch in the other. Was 
this the way for heroines to behave at the supreme mo- 
ment of receiving their recognition and reward — while 
she — she felt faint and feick, and the room was beginning 
to spin around and around her. 

“ It is all a mistake — a great mistake ! ” she was saying 
in an incoherent sort of way. “ I have never deserved 
anything like this.” 

For the girl was overcome for the time by certain dis- 
tinct memories of those first perilous days when she too 
P 


226 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


felt the contagion of deadly fear which made even those 
held to the place by strong ties, rend them asunder and 
flee away panic-stricken — children from parents, physi- 
cians from patients, pastors from their flocks. What 
weaknesses she had fought and conquered in those dread- 
ful nights ! She did not find it easy to brave death — she 
who was so young and happy. She had often to go on 
her knees to God, praying for fresh courage — for a 
stronger, more unfaltering trust. 

If Mr. Newman’s church had known all this, would 
they have sent her the lovely watch ? And yet, perhaps 

She left her seat — now that they were all looking at 
her and wondering what had happened — and went swiftly 
to her father’s side. 

“They have sent me this beautiful watch as a — a 
Thanksgiving present, father dear ! ” she began, blush- 
ing and hesitating. 

“ Who ? ” asked Mr. Hope, briefly. 

“ Why, the church that Mr. Newman has charge of, 
you know. It is very kind in them — oh, very kind, in- 
deed ; but' I don’t feel as if I deserved it one bit. You 
see I couldn’t do very much, and I was afraid, — I don’t 
want to hide it, — I was really afraid at times. To tell 
the truth, father, I only helped the doctor.” 

The old man put down the carving knife and fork by 
the untouched splendidly browned turkey, and took from 
his pocket his gold-bowed glasses with a hand that trem- 
bled more than usual. Leslie stood silently by while he 
deciphered the inscription. Her mother and brothers, 


A WHITE THANKSGIVING. 


227 


looking on, never forgot the picture she made at that 
moment. Her great, brown eyes — all the brighter for 
the dash of tears in them — shone like stars, though her 
lips were still quivering. Her cheeks were flushed, and 
she looked like a girl who would give her utmost strength, 
regardless of self, peril, or danger, for the sake of others 
and Christ; would do it freely, tenderly, without one 
thought of reward or commendation. 

In her belt she had fastened that morning a bunch of 
white roses, not yet fully opened. Her father touched 
them now with his shaking hand. 

“ Give your flowers to your mother, my darling, and 
let your old father put the new watch in their place, and 
fasten the pretty chain himself, even though his fingers 
are rather clumsy at such tasks. You are a dear, good 
child, my Leslie. I am glad you could do those far-ofi* 
city folks a kind turn in ‘ helping the doctor,’ as you call 
it. They make use of far grander words, however, in 
this elegant piece of engraving here, and say you were 
‘ a heroine of noble courage,’ who saved the lives of their 
pastor and his wife by ‘unselfish devotion to duty,’ and 
so on. As for being ‘ afraid at times,’ that was most nat- 
ural. You are a very human sort of girl, my precious 
child. Christ himself shrank back from death, and bent 
beneath the cross. But when we hold fast to God with 
one hand, and open wide the other in loving service to 
our fellow-men, we have done our best. Indeed, that is 
the highest, noblest type of religion, the very law and the 
prophets, and the true way to the better life that awaits 


228 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


US. Wear your jeweled time-piece as a memento of the 
most fateful crisis of your young life, when our Father 
kept you in the ‘ shadow of his wing,’ safely upheld by 
the Everlasting Arms. This has been a year of many 
mercies — a good year. God has crowned it richly with 
his goodness, and safe from the danger of pestilence we 
have our little girl back at home again — our dear little 
daughter who cannot get beyond her old father’s and her 
dear mother s prayers, and can never surprise them ex- 
cept by doing wrong.” 

Then the white-haired man rose from his seat, and bow- 
ing his stately head to a level with her own, kissed her 
with fond and reverent tenderness. 

It was a pretty scene, and the good deacon’s simple 
words had touched them every one. The Hope family 
was not greatly given to scenes of any kind ; not in the 
habit of parading their inmost feelings, even in the home 
circle. There was not another word said during the din- 
ner hour about the beautiful diamond-studded watch 
and elegant little chain ; and to any outsider they all ap- 
peared very much as iLsual — just a quietly happy, conge- 
nial family group gathered about the bountifully spread 
table. But there was something new in the father’s tone, 
a fonder glance in the mother’s beaming eyes, a prouder 
look on Edwin’s grave face, a deeper meaning in Frank’s 
gay smiles. For down in their hearts each felt as if a 
sacrament had been witnessed, and as if the symbol of 
heroic, chivalric knighthood had been conferred upon the 
youngest of their house — this slight, fair girl, whom they 


A WHITE THANKSGIVING. 


229 


had known as tender rather than brave, more loving than 
daring. 

And so truth compels me to add in this simple record 
of an old-fashioned Thanksgiving Day in the far South, 
that the central feature, the grand feast, was somewhat 
neglected for once. The “ fine vittles ” prepared by old 
Dinah’s unexcelled skill did not receive just the amount 
of appreciation and applause which they merited and she 
had expected. 

This was indeed a disappointment, and yet, when had 
the Hope family ever spent so bright and happy a Thanks- 
giving Day ? Ah, it was indeed a rare “ white day,” to 
be treasured tenderly by memory, to be remembered 
fondly when Leslie’s own golden hair was silvered. 

Even if she had known it was the very last Thanks- 
giving she would spend in her girlhood’s loved home as 
Leslie Hope, she would not have had it different — changed 
in aught. 

A thread of gold had mingled in the tissues of peace- 
ful family life, gleaming brightly amid its warp and woof. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE LECTURE. 

L eslie hope would have told you that the months 
that followed, cold, stormy, eveu bitter for a 
Southern winter, were quiet, eventless, to the last degree ; 
that nothing whatever had happened, at least nothing 
worth remembering. It did seem to her bright, restless 
spirit, that all about her had become touched with a 
very monotonous sameness. 

But there was another standpoint, far less superficial, 
from which to regard the annals of these uneventful 
months. Each episode of our lives has a deep significance, 
and the great, beautiful world is too full of meaning to be 
monotonous. Yet we go on our way, taking note only of 
the actual facts. 

It is not so strange, then, that looking backward upoi 
the days that seem monotonous in their happenings, we 
declare nothing has taken place, nothing whatever. 

But Leslie’s sweet, joyous nature was apt to see the best 
of her own world, to make the best of it too, coloring 
even the most sombre, unsatisfying days with her bright- 
ness, her fresh courage, and tender hopefulness. She was 
not one of those poverty-stricken individuals who never 
rejoice except when receiving. 

And this girl possessed, moreover, an enviable habit of 
230 


THE LECTURE. 


231 


looking out, even upon the darkest day, the most leaden 
sky, the most eventless hours, with a certain sunny cheer- 
fulness that was infectious, and was of the most inestimable 
servdce in the home of which she was so cherished a 
member. And so this lagging winter passed, made 
brighter by her ministry, and spring came once more, 
making even her cheerfulness cheerier. She was unusu- 
ally light of heart on one sweet April day, not only be- 
cause of the springtime freshness and beauty so manifest 
on every side ; there was something else. 

She held in her hand a long letter from Kate, gay and 
breezy, like herself, and in two days more the Newmans 
would be in Ashland. Kate was coming home. This was 
far better than all her letters put together. 

Most letters, and even those from our best and dearest, 
grow unsatisfactory after a time. And Kate Newman, 
bright and clever as she was, found it difficult to put her 
truest, tenderest heart-thoughts on paper in the light they 
demanded and her correspondent deserved. Yet, these 
letters of hers, long and frequent pen-talks, gave a cer- 
tain color and warmth to the dreary midwinter days. 
They kept fresh in Leslie’s mind too, not the troublous 
times when the pestilence was abroad ; not these, but the 
halcyon weeks that followed, spent at Castle Danger- 
ous,” or in wandering about the sunny solitudes of the 
peerless heights. 

And not many days after this, when the April thorn 
tree was burst into fullest bloom, the wild cherry bending 
under its burden of blossoms, and the dogwood had 


232 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


pitched its white tent on the verge of the forest, something 
occurred, really happened at last, and brought back 
very forcibly to Leslie and her friends the one striking 
event of those mountain loiterings, the adventure she had 
wished for and obtained, the midnight escapade at Rock 
City. 

Mr. Newman had come into the cosy sitting room at 
Mrs. Garnett’s, where Leslie was spending the morning 
with Kate, displaying a number of tickets. 

“ I have a surprise for you, ladies,” he said, with an 
amused expression; “and a plan which I think will 
please you both. Do you remember the card your gen- 
tlemanly tramp gave you, Miss Leslie ? Well, the real per- 
sonage, not the tramp, — who, by the way, has made his 
way up as a famous orator and lecturer very rapidly 
during the past year, — will speak at the opera house to- 
night, and I have arranged for the mountain trio to attend 
together. I have also telegraphed my seminary friend, 
Henry Perkins, who admires him so intensely, and he 
will reach Ashland just in time for the lecture, and to 
occupy the fourth in the quartette of adjoining seats that 
I was fortunate enough to secure in the dress circle.” 

“ What is the name of this lecturer and scientist ? I 
have forgotten,” said Kate. 

“ I dare say Miss Leslie remembers ; she has kept the 
card, perhaps, as a souvenir, not only of her first real ad- 
venture, but of the tramp who played his part so well, and 
the only one I ever knew to show gratitude to the hand 
tliat fed him.” 


THE LECTURE. 


233 


“ The name was Field Stanley McLeod,” said Leslie, 
with a far-away look in her eyes, as the events of that 
strange night flashed back to memory ; “ and I did keep 
the card, because there was something about the man’s 
face that made me think, even then. Indeed, there have 
been times when — I — I fancied we were all mistaken, 

and the tramp was not a ” 

“ Thief — not a thief after all ? How then did he come 
to have one of McLeod’s cards?” interrupted Mr. 
Newman. 

Leslie was looking down with a blushing face. She had 
intended saying a very difierent thing. But now she kept 
her past fancies, whatever they might have been, to herself. 
How vividly her adventure stood out on the canvas of that 
bit of past spent on the mountain top, and the help that came 
in answer to her prayer, and the walk home, and the con- 
siderate bearing and aid of the tramp ! She remembered 
too, that Mr. Newman and Kate had not been told the 
queer little parting scene when she gave him her hand- 
somely bound Bible to keep and to read for her sake, 
writing a few words on its fly leaf that people might 
know “ he came by it honest,” and so not think him a 
thief. 

And yet he was a thief if he had stolen Field Stanley 
McLeod’s card ; an impostor too, for she remembered 
well his saying, as he passed to her keeping the bit of 
significant cardboard : “ Give this to your friends ; it is 
only my card, but they might like to see it.” 

Oh, there was something mysterious about this tramp ; 


234 


A THEEAD OF GOLD. 


something that haunted and distressed her. Suppose, 

after all But this suggestion made her shudder. It 

could not be true. It was too dreadful to contemplate a 
mistake like that. 

During the lecture Leslie’s face was a study, whose 
changes of expression it was interesting to watch. Her 
cheek paled and flushed by turns, and once or twice a 
mist of tears gathered in her eyes as she watched the 
speaker. 

Yet there was nothing emotional, nothing pathetic, in 
the finished and eloquent discourse on the ‘‘Wonders of 
Mineralogy,” nor was it particularly interesting even, to 
a young person of her age. 

The speaker was tall and slightly built, with a look of 
power and reserved strength. He had a pale, olive com- 
plexion, and a grave cast of features. He had a clear, 
ringing voice which he used with care and deliberation. 

The lecture itself was not so learned or exhaustive, as 
pleasing and replete with enthusiasm. He had a way of 
saying commonplace things in a bright, entertaining 
fashion. The discoveries he had made in the mineral 
world, truly wonderful for one so young, while dry as 
dust to many unscientific hearers of that large audience, 
were evidently as dear to his own soul as the poem is to 
the poet, the painting to the painter, or any creation of 
genius to its creator. And the self-made man, despite 
his forlorn youth, poverty, and friendlessness, had won a 
name which science knew and honored. Thanks to his 
devotion to certain investigations he had wrested ultimate 


THE T.ECTURE. 


235 


triumph from amid the very throes of defeat, and the 
devotees of science, as well as an admiring world, had 
heaped its “ degrees ” and conferred its honors upon his 
name, no longer humble and unknown. 

Some of these things Leslie saw for herself ; much had 
been told her by the lecturer’s friends. This was the man 
whom she was now regarding with perplexed thought and 
look. And yet she would have known him anywhere 
after that midnight walk in the white, defining moonlight. 
The honored scientist, with a scholarly world at his feet, 
the lecturer standing before her, with his masterful face 
and well-modulated voice, and the hungry tramp she had 
pitied and fed, the tramp she had called poor man ” and 
had deemed probably shiftless and lazy, were one and 
the same. 

As they were leaving, he made his way at once to where 
she stood, holding out his hand in delighted recogni- 
tion. Poor Leslie made a blushing, almost tearful effort 
to appear at ease, and to introduce her friends. 

This is Mr. McLeod, Kate,” she began, stammeringly ; 

the tramp, you know, who was so kind ; the one we 
thought ” 

But she could go no farther. Kate, and Mr. Newman 
as well, were staring at the pair in a bewildered, help- 
lessly dazed fashion, that made her blush more hotly than 
ever, though she longed to scream with laughter. 

Anything unexpected, and as surprising as unexpected, 
is met usually by appropriate exclamations. But this thing 
of to-night was seemingly so impossible, that it was received 


236 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


by Leslie^s friends in rigid silence. They made no ap- 
parent effort to express in words their surprise at this un- 
looked-for denoument. They even refused to believe at first 
that the poor man whom Leslie had fed, the tramp who had 
brought her home that night, was one and the same with 
Field Stanley McLeod, the graceful speaker and delight- 
ful lecturer of the evening. But there was Mr. Newman’s 
old chum clinging to his “ Jonathan ” with boyish fond- 
ness, and calling him McLeod, with perfect freedom 
and familiarity; and there was Leslie, on the other 
hand, referring to him as “ the tramp ” of her mountain 
adventure, a title he accepted with the utmost good 
nature. Even now, at this very moment, as he was smil- 
ing down on her blushing face, his fine eyes were aflame 
with some strong feeling. 

“You alone are to blame for this strange mistake,” 
Leslie was saying. “Why did you let me call you a 
tramp, and tell me no better? You even confessed that 
you were hungry ? Don’t you remember ? ” 

“And so I was, after you were so kind as to offer me 
part of your dainty luncheon. I had not thought of din- 
ner until then ; and besides, I did not like — it did not 
seem quite the thing, you know, to refuse such a gracious 
courtesy from one who had such gentle thoughts of a 
stranger. Don’t you see ? ” 

“It was very wrong,” said Leslie, gravely, turning 
away her burning face ; “ you ought not to have let me 
go on calling you ” 

“ ‘A tramp ’ ? ‘ Poor man ’ ? ” he broke in, laughing a 


THE LECTURE. 


237 


little. Then he added, more seriously : “ But, indeed, I 
was a tramp iu one sense of the word. I chose to travel 
incognito, because I had before me an important errand, 
and my whole soul was bent upon its accomplishment. 
It led me from the first into the deepest caves and wildest 
gorges of valley and mountain, and my travel-worn, 
weather-stained garments made the name you gave me 
most fitting. And then, I had a fancy, just a little fancy 
of my own distrustful soul, not to tell you any better 
that night. But I left my card for your friends, don’t 
you remember? I was sure that Kev. Mr. Newman, of 
whom you told me, would know who I was. And I felt 
that that much, at least, was due one who ” 

But Leslie’s lifted eyes were imploring silence. The 
one thing not to be borne was for the listening circle 
about her to catch a breath of the final scene in this 
farce, this miserable piece of comedy, the Bible presenta- 
tion in which she had taken the leading part. Anything 
but that ! She need not have feared, however. He had 
read aright the mute appeal in those deep eyes of hers. 
He said nothing more about tramps. 

During the spring and summer Leslie met Prof. Mc- 
Leod quite frequently. He had important matters to 
look after in the interest of the new university, established 
but recently beyond the Sierras and in which he occupied 
the chair of natural science, and would remain South 
until the opening of the fall session. 

He was not only a gifted scholar, but a delight- 
ful, even brilliant conversationalist, and was soon a 


238 


A THEEAD OF GOLD. 


welcome visitor at Deacon Hope’s hospitable home, 
where he as well as the others, spent some very charming 
evenings. 

On one of these he confided much of his past life to 
Leslie ; his desolate, orphaned boyhood ; his struggles for 
a right to live first, and afterward for an education ; of 
the years that followed bringing him to manhood, and 
certain long, tedious study in regions of the unknown, 
with speculations and researches in the oft misleading 
domain of philosophic thought, which resulted in casting 
darkness and doubt over his earlier faith in God — his 
youthful trust and dependence on Christ, the Saviour of 
all mankind. But his Christian mother’s prayers were 
not to be lightly set aside. Her last gift had been a 
Bible, treasured and revered, but later on lost. Not long 
afterward, while he was living in a poor, wretched hut, 
in a cove amid the Western mountains, and had suffered 
the most cruel loss of his loveless young life in the death, 
sudden and terrible, ot the one being he cared for, a 
dark-eyed little girl, stopping for a day or so at one of 
the Rocky” hotels, gave him her Bible, a pretty gilt- 
clasped volume, which she asked him “ to read for her 
sake.” And this he had done until deadly doubt and 
unbelief wound their chains about him ; but he kept the 
little Bible — kept too the childish lines on a bit of 
paper he had found inside, through all the hard, stern, 
often unequal and discouraged struggle, toward that one 
high goal of all his dreams and hopes, a liberal and 
thorough education. 


THE LECTURE. 


239 


“ And do you really intend to have me believe that you 
were that boy ? ” 

It was quite true, he told her. He had not read her first 
gift for years though, when she gave him a second. But 
he had promised to read that, she remembered, and he 
was in the habit of keeping his promises. He had read 
it at first, solely because she asked him to do so, but it 
was not long until he began to read its pages for the new 
beauty and light he found there. Her sweet words, above 
all, her earnestness to bring him to the Saviour, impressed 
him strangely and very deeply. He had forgotten 
those old doubts which came between him and Christ, 
now that he belonged to Christ and called him 
Master. He had wished much to see her and tell 
her these things. God only knew how much he owed 
to this dark-eyed, gentle-hearted girl, who would not 
let even a poor outcast and tramp go away without 
speaking to him a word for Christ and trying to win 
his soul for heaven. All his life long he would thank 
and bless her for what she had done. He intended to 
add something more, but came to a full pause and said 
nothing. 

Prof. McLeod was accustomed to speak, and could rise 
to heights of eloquence and oratory. But he had told his 
own story very simply, brokenly, and with much hesita- 
tion. 

The truth was, he had been thinking all the time of 
how in conclusion he would make a certain statement to 
his old and new friend, Leslie Hope, and ask her a single 


240 


A TUREAD OF GOLD. 


question. But lifting his eyes to the sweet face near 
him — 

Pure with all faithful passion, fair 
With tender smiles that come and go; 

And comforting as April air 
After the snow, 

his courage vanished in an instant, and the gifted young 
speaker, who never in his life had suffered from stage- 
fright, looked about him in a panic-stricken way which 
seemed very ludicrous whenever he remembered it, years 
afterward. He had thought to say something very elo- 
quent and striking, but instead he said nothing. 

And Leslie was all too deeply stirred by the story, to 
which she had listened with such strange emotions, to 
wonder over his sudden silence. How beautiful and 
mysterious were the plans and providences of God ! How 
should she ever dare after this to act lightly, even in the 
most commonplace affairs of life ! She had never dreamed 
that she might one day meet the poor, ragged, little Wes- 
tern lad, or even hear of him again in her far-away 

Southern home. And now 

How strange she would have thought the story if the 
tramp guiding her steps on that eventful night had 
revealed himself at once as the bereft, wretched little lad 
of the mountain hut, to whom she had been kind when a 
girl of ten. A gentle word, a generous act, is sometimes 
repaid in the far-off future in some such way as this. But 
that this cultured young professor, gifted, talented, who 
had made his way through one of the most renowned 
universities of the great West, at home and at ease in her 


THE LECTURE. 


241 


own father’s house, should be that same boy, once, twice 
beckoned on toward the religion of Christ, and a restful, 
saving faith in him by her hand and lips, ah, that was 
more than strange ! 

And yet, the strangest part of all was still to come. 


Q 


CHAPTER XX. 


Leslie’s secret and its sequel. 

"PVEAR me ! How in the world am I to get through 
with all the engagements crowded into this one 
hot afternoon ? ” demanded Leslie of her imaged face in 
the mirror before which she stood. 

There’s the Working Girls’ Band at three, and I 
promised faithfully to look in and lend a hand in arrang- 
ing a programme for their summer f§te. Our own Circle 
meets at four, with lots of important business before the 
house, and then comes the Endeavor reception, and the 
“ Pink Tea ” for the East End Mission. Now how am I to 
manage so as to put in an appearance at all four places ? 
And, oh, how warm it is! Someway, a day like this 
makes me feel tired and faint of late, as if I did not care 
to go anywhere or see anybody ever again. I certainly 
do wish I might stay at home, I wish ” 

“ Miss Leslie,” said a servant, who just then knocked 
at her door, “thar’s a gent’man in the parlor what’s 
axed is you here.” 

“ That piano tuner again, of course,” she exclaimed, 
while a swift frown marred the sweetness of her looks. 

“ Why, no, ma’am,” put in Ben, hastily, “ it ain’t him, 
but only jest Mr. McLeod, what’s come in on the last 

train, and he say if you ain’t busy nor nothink an’ ” 

242 


Leslie’s secret and its sequel. 243 


“ Oh, I’ll be down in a moment, Ben ! ” 

The words were nothing, but the voice — even Ben, 
with his unawakened soul, noticed the change, and went 
away slowly, his woolly head on one side, the whites of 
his eyes turned ceilingward, while he gravely pondered 
the subject of “ Miss Leslie’s turns,” and evident aver- 
sion to piano tuners. 

“ Our own faces seen suddenly,” says one, “ will some- 
times tell us things concerning ourselves that we have 
not known, haraly guessed at before.” 

And so Leslie Hope, confronting her own fair vision 
in her mirror, came face to face with a discovery, a secret 
which her own heart had been hiding, even from her. 

She read it in one glance at the red lips, parted now 
in shy, sweet smiles ; it flashed forth from the deep eyes 
into which she was gazing. She saw it in the flush steal- 
ing over her fair cheeks. 

She turned away from the tell-tale mirror and began 
to add the flnishing touches to her airy summer toilet. 
It was difficult for her to realize that she, Leslie Hope, 
had given her love unasked, unsought, to this almost 
stranger. How could she have learned to care so deeply 
for a man whose life-path had only happened to cross 
her own ; once in early childhood, again in her more 
thoughtful girlish years, and now, when time had beck- 
oned on her reluctant feet to 

Where the brook and river meet, 
and childhood, girlhood, were lost in womanhood ? 


244 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


Where were her maidenly reserve and pride when she 
allowed his image to possess her thoughts, master her 
fancy, fill all her senses, until she had learned 

The old, old lesson of loving ? 

Had it come to her at length, this masterful passion, 
and would she keep its secret well ? 

And then she went slowly down the old oak stairway, 
with rather a stately step, and entering the parlor, greeted 
Prof. McLeod in a quiet fashion, that had also a touch 
of reserve about it. 

It was June, and Mrs. Hope’s flower garden, just 
beyond the tall glass doors that answered the purpose of 
windows on this side of the house, was a perfect thicket 
of bloom, a wilderness of color and fragrance which 
perfumed every passing breeze. Riotous vines clambered 
about the windows, and the shadows played a game of 
hide and seek on the carpet at her feet. And — what is 
so rare as a day in June? And this rarest of all June 
days had come to her. 

The young professor met her with a gladness there 
was no attempt to conceal. And, somehow, Leslie di- 
vined, as she looked into his face and felt the warm, 
strong clasp of his hand, that her secret would not long 
remain a secret. And then, as he led her to a seat, he 
told her why he had come. He felt that he could live 
without her no longer. Her image had ever been with 
him from that first day amid the “ Rockies.” Her words 
and her kindness had been his inspiration. Would she 


Leslie’s secret and its sequel. 245 

come and bless still more the life she had made her own? 
And then he told her the “ old story.” A new story 
to him and to her ; told it in his own way, with rare 
passion and power, and she had answered back to him as 
she had a little before to herself in the mirror, and she 
was his. And outside, the odorous breezes seemed more 
musical; the swift vibrant humming bird at the open 
window caught the spirit of it ; and the afternoon wore 
away with little thought of its many engagements, for a 
bit of Eden had crept into the old Hope mansion, and 
Leslie was otherwise engaged. 

The last months spent in her father’s house were in- 
vested with an interest both tender and sacred to those 
who had known and loved her all her innocent young 
life. They were busy months too ; full of the interest- 
ing stir and bustle which in that region usually precedes 
the marriage of son or daughter. Leslie was quite too 
human a girl to leave the extensive preparations her 
parents thought necessary, and the mysteries of an elabo- 
rate trousseau, to other hands altogether, no matter how 
competent. And so, with other work to accomplish, 
tasks to complete, plans to set well on foot, and new 
schemes to undertake, her own were full to overflowing, 
up to the very day of the parting. Through all the busy 
weeks that lay between the going away from the old home 
in Ashland to the new one in Los Angeles, she ran the 
golden thread of her good works to the last. God has 
made many such girls, and they are among the noblest 
and best of his creation. 


246 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


And Leslie had now another’s happiness to consider 
dearer than her own. She wished him to trust her 
womanly counsel ; to receive from her not only encour- 
agement and praise in his life work and sanctified obedi- 
ence to his blaster and Saviour, but the direction of all 
toil, all ambition and purpose, as well. She longed to be 
his guide and inspiration in heavenly things. It was not 
enough to be his true yoke-fellow in the gospel. She 
wanted her Christian work to lead him on to nobler 
heights. And so Leslie did her best in these last months 
to show her Saviour all honor, and to use her God-given 
power to guide toward all that was best and purest the 
man who was her chosen husband. 

When Mrs. Raynor first knew that Los Angeles was 
to be Leslie’s future home, she could not repress a 
sigh. 

“ When I look back on Ashiand,” she said, “ and our 
own surroundings as they were before she came home 
from school, and then review the changes of the last few 
years, I can scarcely realize that the efforts of one noble 
Christian girl could bear so much fruit, and bring about 
such far-reaching results for good. Ah, there’s nobody 
like our Leslie. I don’t see how we are to get on without 
her. Do you ? But still, if he loves her, and she ” 

“ Exactly my sentiments,” said the minister, smiling, 
and stooping to kiss more tenderly even than his wont 
the troubled face ; “ for you married me, sweet wife, and 
left all you loved behind to make a new home in a dis- 
tant State yourself. Have you forgotten ? ” 


LESLIE^S SECRET AND ITS SEQUEL. *247 

The parsonage at Ashland had brightened most won- 
derfully in the past two years, both within and without. 
The new coat of pearl-gray paint, with trimmings of a 
deeper shade, was vastly becoming to the little home, and 
inside blinds had been added, as well as a graceful ve- 
randa, just beginning to be outlined by arabesques of 
moon-flower and wisteria. The rooms had a fresh, at- 
tractive look, and many pretty articles had been placed 
among their plain belongings, as well as sundry com- 
forts and luxuries. 

The pastor and his faithful wife had still their trials 
and sorrows, but they had also greater blessings and 
deeper joys than they had once thought were in store 
for them and their dear ones. 

The minister’s salary, at Deacon Hope’s suggestion, 
had been increased, and he could now live without that 
fear of debt that formerly so oppressed and pained him. 
He could buy books and periodicals too, and subscribe 
for the best current literature, which helped both him- 
self and his wife to keep pace with the age. A vacation 
each summer had become a regular institution, and so 
far the weeks of rest and change had proved of priceless 
benefit to his health. Never in the old days, fagged and 
dejected- by overwork and the despairing struggle “to 
make both ends meet,” did he preach such strong, help- 
ful gospel sermons as now. The church had greatly 
gained in strength and influence. Its young people were 
as hard at work as the older members, and several mis- 
sions had been established. A few months since a pre- 


248 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


cious revival had resulted in a wonderful ingathering. 
Among the brightest conversions the pastor had ever 
known, were those of Edwin and Frank Hope, and his 
own adopted son, the wild, erring boy, Harold. 

Leslie was to be married in November. 

If she had a wish to be married at any season in 
particular, it was the springtime, when all nature seems 
in happy sympathy with the occasion. And she had 
said from a child too, that she would be married only in 
the sunshine. No gloom or clouds must darken her 
wedding day. Yet, for all that, she entered the church, 
leaning upon her chosen husband’s arm, on a dull, chill 
November day, a drizzling wintry rain falling mean- 
while. 

But hope glowed like the sun. And all light, warmth, 
and beauty were in the hearts of the professor and his 
bride. They missed nothing — these two. Love shone on 
their way, and made even the dun-colored day bright, 
the leaden sky blue, and the dismal, sunless, tearful 
November world as fair and winsome as springtime. 

The solemn ceremony over, the vows of lifelong con- 
stancy and devotion spoken, there was much time taken 
in wishing the youthful pair all joy. But that too was 
over. She was pressed once more to the hearts that ached 
and blessed her ; “ old Dinah,” in a resplendent head- 
dress, clasping her more closely and quite as tenderly as 
the rest, while Milly and Ben sobbed audibly near by. 
Good-byes were whispered with tears like rain ; flowers 


Leslie's secret and its sequel. 249 


were strewn beneath her feet ; rice was thrown in showers 
for a good omen, and Leslie, “ the dearest girl in Ash- 
land,” was gone. 

The new home at Los Angeles, where young Mrs. Mc- 
Leod began her happy married life, was one of the many 
recently completed in the latest style of American archi- 
tecture, a quiet-looking, unpretentious house, with a fore- 
ground of stately palms, pomegranate, and orange trees, 
suggestive of the cities of the Orient. 

Next door, on either side, the ancient Spanish adobe 
buildings, with their low roofs and square proportions, 
carry one back to the founding of this old and new city, 
more than one hundred years ago. 

But in Leslie’s day, the great bustle and rush, the 
headlong push, the vast industries, and wide avenues of 
trade declare the city of the present to be one of the 
most thriving and prosperous of the whole West. Its in- 
habitants have all the energy and vim which distinguish 
the character of the thorough Westerner, and she was 
not long in discovering that this enchantingly lovely 

City of the Angels ” was peopled very much as other 
places — by children of a common humanity, representa- 
tives of almost all nationalities. 

And no sooner had they settled down in the charming 
Queen Anne cottage, which the young wife spent several 
delightful weeks in furnishing to their entire satisfac- 
tion, than she began to take her bearings, and look about 
her for some special work to be done “ In his name.” 

At her suggestion too, her husband and herself cast 


250 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


their lot in with a poor and struggling mission as their 
new church home, and here the youthful pair began 
their labors for love of Christ in Los Angeles. 

“ We must minister to others, rather than that they 
should minister to us,” she explained, with that look in 
her lovely, happy eyes that made her husband feel not 
only secure in her trustful affection, but sure as well that 
his young wife would ever abundantly satisfy the deepest 
wants of his nature. 

“ If we choose the easy, the best things, meaning, in 
this instance, the splendid First Church, its eloquent 
pastor and cultured, congenial members, we shall know 
notliing of the sweetness of real service and self-sacrifice. 
And we should grow selfish too, which is one way of say- 
ing we should be unhappy, instead of finding happiness 
in work.” 

Earnestness is power. He who is in earnest will impress 
himself on others. Professor McLeod felt the force of this 
appeal to labor as in a heathen land. He knew too, that 
where there was cross-bearing there was also Christ’s 
presence. His former doubts had been of the intellect, 
rather than the heart. He had demanded for his belief 
an unanswerable basis of fact. He had little desire for 
those speculations about spiritual things that he largely 
indulged himself in when in the realm of science. But 
when he had yielded to the truths of Christianity a sin- 
cere and cordial faith ; when he had been convinced 
through the blessed influence of the word of God, read 
first to please his dead mother, and afterward for the sake 


Leslie’s seceet and its sequel. 251 


of the little girl who was sorry for him, and the sweet- 
spoken young lady who had yearned over even a tramp’s 
soul ; he had cherished the quiet confidence of a child who 
knows his. father and his father’s promises so well it is 
impossible to doubt either through all eternity. He had 
“ come ofi* more than conqueror ” in the fierce struggle 
with unbelief. The honest skeptic often makes a most 
loyal Christian. And Leslie found in her noble husband, 
in him who by years of patient toil and sacrifice had 
climbed fame’s ladder round by round, this self-made, 
selt-poised man, who rose despite the fetters of poverty, 
obscurity, and ignorance, to the lofty niche in which he 
stood to-day, the truest, humblest-minded co-worker her 
own life had ever known. It was pleasant indeed for her 
to follow where he led, or to stand at his side in all de- 
partments of Christian labor. His active, progressive 
plans were not long in stirring up the mission saints to 
better things, and the result was a new and vigorous 
Second Church. 

And so the months went by and filled up the passing 
years, with their burden of supreme moments, sunny days, 
and golden hours. The gentle girl whose ministry of love 
all Ashland recalled with unfading recollection and un- 
failing tenderness, forgetful of every fault and error, re- 
membering only the good works which they could still see 
as a thread of gold stretching its length along the years 
she spent among them in the dear old home, now lived in 
the busy, happy years of her new life as faithful wife, de- 
voted mother, and Christian friend. 


252 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


It would be difficult to find a happier, more congenial 
pair than Leslie and her husband. While all her days 
were glorified by his delightful companionship and unsel- 
fish afiection, he felt his own life enriched, deepened, and 
broadened by her influence and example, her simple 
piety and zealous faith, which he honored far above the 
laurels he had won, the prizes he had grasped, or all the 
science, power, and learning of this world. 

In the “ City of the Angels ” you will not find a more 
contented home than the somewhat imposing mansion at 
the end of the avenue, shaded by pepper trees, its lawn 
hedged by wild poppies and tropical plants of rich color, 
and fragrance. The picturesque Queen Anne cottage 
was hardly roomy enough for the McLeod family after 
ten years of married life, ten years of work and care, pain 
and pleasure, joy and sorrow; but the new home, their 
very own too, which the tender grace of wifely and 
motherly love made into a temple of holy revealings, grew 
intensely dear to each and all of them. Leslie’s daughter, 
bonnie, like herself, and the rosy-cheeked brace of boys, 
were quite as fond of home and home-life as the mother 
had been, aye, was even now, for the beloved circle in far- 
away Ashland was still unbroken, and more than once 
Leslie had gone back to be blessed by her silver-haired 
old father, to be wept over by her failing mother, to greet 
Edwin s wife, to kiss Frank’s first-born, and to have her 
own precious little ones declared the most wonderful 
children in all the known world, the most beautiful under 
the sun. 









A Thread of Gold 


Page 263 





Leslie’s secret and its sequel. 253 

The visitor to California who passes Pasadena, the 
“ crown of the valley,” sees acres and acres of wild pop- 
pies, so brilliant in their coloring as to be seen from the 
ocean many miles away. At this distance they appear as 
a solid mass, a veritable “ carpet of gold,” as beautiful as 
a dream of oriental splendor ; but as the distance widens 
it is only as a thread of color they appear on the horizon. 

It is a single golden thread of which you merely 
catch a glimpse now and then, as Leslie McLeod pursues 
her mission and lives out her woman’s life, which is seen 
as far away as heaven itself, and appears beautiful even 
to the angels. It is the deeds of her life that are most 
precious ; the work she has done for Christ’s sake. Leslie 
lived too, in the happy home beyond the Sierras as con- 
tented in mind as she was beloved by those about her. 

One evening, just before nightfall, as the brief, 
bright Californian gloaming brought out the evening 
star, Leslie McLeod and her husband walked slowly 
up and down the orange-hedged walk before their door. 
Tall, white lilies gleaming in the dusk, gave out their fra- 
grance and drank in the dew. The honeysuckle, jasmine, 
and eglantine roses were in full bloom. The air was balm 
itself ; the hour all peace. 

“ Are you not tired yet, my Leslie, of such active work ? 
Would it not be better to entrust your plans to others 
now, at least in part ? ” the professor’s grave voice was 
asking. 

“Not yet; not until I shall ‘bring the blind by a way 
they know not, and lead them in paths they have not 


254 


A THREAD OF GOLD. 


known ^ ; not before I have tried to make darkness light, 
and crooked things straight to some I have in mind in 
need of a friend and a guide.” 

“I see,” he answered, smiling; “you will end your 
work only with life. And I am sure the golden threads 
spun in the darkness will reappear to us by-and-by in 
fuller beauty : 

‘Weaving slowly, and weaving blindly, 

Each for himself, his fate : 

We may not know what the right side be. 

We can only weave and wait.' 

Yet, I think, dear love,” he added, softly, “the beau- 
tiful threads are fashioning a robe of priceless worth, and 
for such a destiny as that, such a wedding garment, we 
two can well afford to work and wait ! ” 


THE END. 










r?< 






OT • ^ ■'^^ ' 




*n 


•0^' 


-W. 


55 t 



^SV 


>: ■"» 


'iCM 










ty 


LM 




A^. 


>-^v 












#%■ 


.ll'i 


'%>.f 'V 


7>' 




» t 


m 






T'' i^:i»i 




zn 




.♦^'A»' ■ * 


m 




'>y 


7< 


ft; 




L»' - 


A -4 .* 


ij^TJ ; 


,r4feVi.r 






\r 


V v#T'^'''iV' 

it* ‘-^w • 




ur >} 


u 


.■<■;> . 




I Si* 




'4 


v^sr \ 




.• </ 




t . r 


r/ 




i\j 


I .^i 


f*rf 






•ff- 








FV 




- 


A" 


rrt ■’! 


5?, 


[•3^1 


l'A^ 






I* ,f*' 


>(* 




13 


• k 






a 


:r 






M 




>44 


4' 


fnsr 




**» #• 


:«^i 




n 


r^j 


'*■ 


■'^i 


w 






'* V 


» V ‘H 


.T'^, 




vf!’ 


f r. 


r»' 


’<• 


h 


- 


.f^ t 




•f'V 




t I 




T-t.-* 






■s;* 


s t 


* • # 


r. % 






\i 




•ii 


V' 


I 9. WL.^ 


Vt» 


U- V 


JC V 


4*. 


tr" 


• «. 


*:"u*»/'’ 


t’i 


;{ r 


* • A 


»*> 


I' 


t* 


-f 


»! 


r>*v 




.-I 


.ve 




E 






V 


4 T 1 




.* '* 


i ji 


r r? 




> 


rtt 






I-' 




hv€ 


'r?<.»l 


1 ’.” 


''I 




4 • 


A A 




'/(‘V 


'f 


Iv 






‘5?^- 






!4 


♦ 




rM 


k I 






r%-' 


I 




r^r* ^ 

- - ^ * O \if . , 






V> 


A 


* /•■! 


\1 




•f \ 




i'^ * A 

. ^ iT^ r\® 


-r 

A ^ «l“* 






lT 


ii' '’''' 


^ '.r'^*^ 




0 ^ 


4. t 


^.4 




')rirj 


Avr'K 




?,5?J! .•■i fl 


• f 








1-^ 


1..I 


L« •. 


. .t V 




M 


:4: 












i 




r" 

y 


• ^ 
V 




- v^ ^ 

t *. ^,*-* 


V >■ . 


y ^ * 


“■ ^ J " j 


->i-. /<►'- • 


• -» 


•t 




k » r i'^ j' , 

* '■ — 


. Vj 




. • - fc '♦'. 

- . 1 - 


N_i\ . 
•% _‘. 


♦'V' 

-V . . 


^ *i' 


/• 

r 


. ■ r 


<. !• 


K 

«- ?- 


✓ 


‘•/-‘.'tAT- 'I .- 


V • 


\ 


• <-. 




I • 


f . 


v*" ^ 




*• ^ 


- ^ 


• f 

« 


‘ ••^-i •■ -V 






• r 


.*• •* 


--s 


:* ■ W V . 


; / - 


-• / 




^ -5- 


^ f 

'V 


;- v' 


. • i 


' • fc-. 


\ 








> 


>S' 1-. 

* k 


< •■ 




• C 

C 




• « • 

^ >y 

I 5. • 






■*-<%. ■' - 




' > 4 






. •‘V 


-t 

< • 


»• .. 


A 


» . 


e- 




^1* . 


k/- . * T 


. J. - 





• •<• » 
f ■ 


. ' » 


•* / 




* 


•t • 
«# • 





• ^ 


^ V 


/. »fc. 




I ^ 


< 

- ? . • 


V4.< 


V . 


y. 

r 


*« V ’ 
1 ^ 


X*. 

t \ 


y . 




. »' 


i 



t. r-' 




X /, 

> 


T 


■•.'•' 'V ^ • /,, .. < .V ■ ^- , y -K X . - - \ . . 

V.'- ’ . A . ■' ■'■ • -■?■ '4 

■/ •' j' •>»i-_-' .\'^' ^}f -jc ‘ '■■''■■ .. ' / , • , v:‘. . i- T 

.^. ^ --V-r -- . ^ - '“-A ' '> y ■' * •'-•• 

*. ' 'J, •- •■ ‘-^ v-rfitfi. 4 . -Jr y* ik • ,» <^ ” « • ' Fi ■ '4 » • 


✓ 

' # 


'■' •_ >VT 


- • 






j'. 


.i 5 






« * r 

» \. 


‘■r 






;■■ , V ,^; J ; r •‘^ - A- ■ 

• _ V ! •<• ■ '■ -ff/ ,M^':X 3 r;-. ' V : ^ 


• I »• / * t/^ # J I >» • I ^ ^ ^ • I • ^ • 

’; c"-* / ii\’' ^ /■■ '• ^ i, ■.'■'** t//''' I ’ 

vi ; _i ■} '■ '"* .'• ’ ' • ‘ u A - ■ ' 

./■ Ti .* ^ , f •/ * 4 ' V • • ^ • 




. 


r/A- 


.* ■ :• 
I « 


n^' ■■■ • ■ ''iaM’"'"'- '■• '■ ■ i' 

feV A i-'’' \ ’■' •■' 

^ • V • .1 ‘ • .^-vV / 

1 >i C J • • . i • 1 • ■ •» , '^ • / \ 

* v** .• , \ < • ^ ' . ' • ".■>./ ‘ • - 


i l • ■ I ■, .,i ’ V J 

' ' i '-A. ' ' ■ • ;■ / " .^' • ■ ij ■' 


^■/ ■ ■ , ’ \ ^ / 7 '• •• ■'• 

f \‘ > . ■ .- ■- \ 

i ■ >A- ■ f. ' - t 'A' 


it '.i c- 

A • r...**" . 


r, ' . S' -Y , /S " ' \v 5 i.=.'X;V : . 


- '1 


, 1 • 


VB|> 


) '■ 




^ «? ''‘Av v^vA . ■ •■ 

1 4 T'-’ - •■ •‘ ■■ • 

t } f* • - ■ «U X ' j .< i, .., . ii 

J . 1 -' V.;: A," ■ * 

•'A ■ -A • ■ ' 'r 

1^1 ’•■ - '■. •■■ ' • ■' r ^ 


/ ■ .. i, .., 

V V ■ ' 


: V - •...'• 

* A . ^ 

r / 


I '\ i W 








